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.

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