Funeral for a Fish

I found myself a hesitant pet owner when R brought home a fighting fish as a kiddie party give away early this year. A few days later, we were again the recipient of two more fighting fish, still another party give-away from another event. For the next few weeks, the kids were the eager pet owners, constantly brooding over the fish bowls and over-feeding the fishes.

As expected, their interest began to wane as months passed. The fishes slowly began to be neglected to a short shake of the fish bowl during lunch or dinner, on their way to the dining table. Still at a later date, even feeding the fishes were forgotten completely.

One day in early summer, I was in the kitchen cooking dinner when I heard a loud shriek coming from the living room. I rushed to where the sound came from and I saw B and R huddled in one corner. B crying inconsolably and R holding up a fish bowl. "B's fish is dead." he said, half sad and half gloating for being the first one to discover the fish immobile at the bottom of the bowl.



J suggested giving the fish a funeral. We couldn't think of a better place so off to the bathroom we went...



B was still howling with grief, and the extent of her reaction scared me quite a bit. To be sad, yes; but to bawl hysterically? over a fish?

R innocently asked me what's going to happen next to the poor fish. I couldn't think of any better answer than to say it is now in heaven. Eyes lighting up upon hearing that, "see B, your fish is in heaven now, you don't have to be sad." B bawled even louder, "but my fish (sob, sob, sob) is not in heaven (sob, sob, sob), it's in the potty!!! Waaaah!"