Yeah, my fish died. I had it for a really long time — like 10 years or so. It was just a simple goldfish that I’d brought home from school to take care of over winter break years ago. For some reason I didn’t take it back and that fish found its way into our home. It moved with us several times, changed locations around the house a million times, saw several fish friends come and go, allowed the cats to drink the water from its bowl, and survived the tot dumping tons of fish food in the tank.
It was a good fish.
I know it is silly to get attached to a goldfish. I love fishing. I love eating fish. But that darn goldfish greeted me every morning when I stumbled into the kitchen, kept watch over me while I cooked dinner, and wiggled its tail like crazy whenever I came near the tank.
Fish’s latest companion of three years left us a couple of weeks ago. Just another simple goldfish. We hadn’t done anything different or changed the water or moved the tank around or anything. But I kind of had a feeling.
When I woke up the other day and One Fish (yes, that was my fishy’s name) was lilting, I just acted like he/she was extra tired. Maybe it had a long night? Maybe he/she was lonely?
One Fish was on the way out.
Last night I bawled while my husband took care of my floating fish. It was pretty pathetic. I know One Fish was just a goldfish, but that goldfish was the awesomest goldfish around. I was used to watching as he/she swam around the tank, loved how my daughter was starting to understand the concept of caring for a pet, and how One Fish’s tail was the coolest fish tail around.
We went to the pet store and picked up a mini tank and plopped it atop of our daughter’s dresser in her room. She’s been a bit of a challenge at bedtime (it’s too dark, I’m not tired, I need water, I’m bored, tuck me in again, I dropped my toy….) and figured having the new fish in her room in a tank with a light would help lull her to sleep.
Her nighttime routine now includes saying goodnight several times to her new itty-bitty goldfish that she named Red, she then sings the fishy a song, then talks to it, then sings again, then talks to it a bit more, and eventually falls asleep.
Hey, I don’t care.
She’s not calling for me every five minutes and that itty-bitty fish cost 15 cents at the pet store and can be swapped as many times as needed.
Thanks for the memories, One Fish.
I’ll miss you.