Monday, 10 November 2014
A sad moment
2 November 2014
The goldfish dies.
I have never cared much for the goldfish, emotionally-speaking, and its owner, my daughter, has never cared much for it in the practical sense either. But there is something rather touching about a small, lifeless fish floating like a misplaced apostrophe at the top of its tank and your daughter’s tear-stained face asking you what can be done.
What can be done? Not a lot for the fish, I’m afraid; I think we may be a little bit beyond that point. But the pump and the filter might fetch something on eBay®. And as my husband suggests, if we’re quick buying the chips it might just do for lunch.
In the end we bury it in the garden and hold a short service of thanksgiving for its under-valued, much put-upon little life, especially the first few days when it was a source of excitement and rejoicing, but obviously not the later years when it started making a mess of its tank and demanding to be fed whilst we were on holiday.
At least this didn’t happen on Halloween night. I’d have had trouble explaining myself then.