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© 2004 Jack Canfield & Mark Victor Hansen/King Features Syndicate

OCTOPUS’S GARDEN

Eve Eschner Hogan©2002

(From “Chicken Soup for the Ocean Lover’s Soul”)

When I moved to Maui to marry the Captain of my heart, one of the marriage requirements was that I learn to scuba dive — as that was his first love. If I were to fit in, this ocean of his and I were just going to have to get along! Luckily for me — and us — I already had an ongoing love affair with the sea, both for its beauty and its creatures, so I embraced this opportunity to dive and explore the world below the surface.

There were a few differences between the way my fiance and I approached the sea, however. Having been a fisherman for many years, he didn’t think twice about taking the ocean’s bounty home for dinner. In fact, he had told me how the Hawaiians had taught him to kill an octopus by biting it right between the eyes, then taking it home to eat. Useful information, I’m sure, but all it did for me was offer proof that the worst gift one could have was to be born delicious.

I, on the other hand, had been a vegetarian for more than 20 years. I wasn’t the kind of vegetarian who concerned herself with what other people ate, but I preferred, when given the option, not to participate in or witness the death of any creature.

One day, when we were exploring the waters off the coast of Maui, we happened across an octopus’s garden. Romantically, The Beatles’ song of the same name started playing in my head. The Captain had different tunes playing in his head, and they must have sounded like dinner bells, because after catching the octopus and showing me its spectacular array of arms and suction cups, he paused. I could see on his face that this was a very difficult moment.

As he held the octopus, visions of the Captain biting the head of this multiarmed creature flashed through my mind. I imagined the arms — now so full of life and movement — falling limp at the hands of my beloved. My emotions must have shown in my eyes, the only part of my face visible behind my mask, regulator and a steady stream of bubbles.

Still holding the giant octopus in his hands as it reached out in every direction to get away, the Captain looked at me, then looked at the octopus. He was obviously in the grip of one of the major decisions of his life: Did he want to take the octopus home for dinner or take the girl home for life? He must have realized that this could be the deal-breaker, and ever so reluctantly, he opened his hand and let the octopus go. As they parted each other’s company, it was clear that the octopus and the Captain both celebrated their new lease on life.

Evidently, the Captain never forgot the moment, either. On our 10-year wedding anniversary, he graced me with a beautiful silver necklace of an eight-armed beauty of the sea in honor of the octopus that saved our relationship.