Fishy

Pets are funny things.  I didn't grow up with any when I was a little girl, except for one little dog that my parents got as I was leaving for college who growled at me every time I came home from school.  

So I'm not really equipped for pet deaths.  

Fishy (his actual name is Taquito and you can read about how we acquired him here) has been slowing down for several weeks.  He hasn't been his peppy self, and he hasn't been responding to my voice.  That's how I could tell he was getting a little tired. 

Last night he was very slow...and lingering near the bottom of the tank. And then this morning he was in a little heap underneath that green tree.  I made Craig clean out his little tank and do whatever it is you do with a dead fish.  

You'd think that a little fish who has been with us for over two years wouldn't be such a big deal, but really he's just been one more thing to make me cry this week...along with too many Jane Austen movies, two days of being curled up on the couch with some unknown miserable illness, my daughter registering for classes at BYU and therefore being one step closer to leaving this nest...it's been a rough morning.  

I thought about running to PetSmart and getting a new Fishy, but I don't think I will.  I'm pretty sure I can't handle getting attached to anymore things that leave.  :(

You know what I realized tonight?...that it's dumb to never have another fish again.  I can't just live a fish-less life because this one died and we really liked it.  What a hopeless, fearful way to live.  This fish might die, too.  Or it might live for a really long time.  Either way, I bet we'll like it.  And on the days that it swims in the sunlight and happens to be the exact same turquoise and red that I have in my living room, I'm pretty sure it'll make me happy.  And that's a good thing.  And somehow that also translates into hoping for other stuff in life and not having fear, but I can't quite make it all come out right, so you'll have to just make that leap.