R.I.P., Goldfish Bob (2005-2005)

Our first family pet fell into the clutches of the icy grip of death on Saturday. Goldfish Bob, who was one of a couple dozen feeder fish given to all the girls in my daughter’s Girl Scout Troup at a function, passed away (presumably) silently in his tank while we were away. When I left for work that morning he was doing his normal fishy thing – chasing his reflection in the corner of the tank – but the chase was over when I got home. Now, as Ms N says, he sleeps with the fishes.

I wasn’t expecting to be a fish owner, but now I’ve got the tank so I might as well use it. Today we are off to the pet store to buy Bob’s replacements. Not that you can replace a fish like Bob, who was a cherished member of family for upwards of three whole weeks, but there’s a hole in our hearts to fill and I found two fish that I can get for five bucks. I’m getting an algae-eater – a bottom feeder. I initially thought about naming after the guy my ex ran off with, but I’ve decided instead to name him (or her) Hoover. The other is a betta fish who is yet to be named. Unless the kids have a better idea, I’m going with Sushi.

As for Saturday, I was the first to notice Bob’s demise. We had just come home and the kids went dashing into Emily's room to see how Spongebob and Snowball, the fat-ass hamsters, were doing. During my trek through the kitchen I noticed that Bob was a bit less upright than normal.

Shit.

I broke the news to the kids. They both took it well at first, then Emily acted up just enough to trigger Alex. It reminded my of that Futurama episode where Bender was fitted with an empathy chip that was tuned into Leela’s emotions. She was disappointed, he was disappointed. She then broke down, he then broke down. Ironically, that episode also involved a pet getting flushed down the toilet.

After they finished the home-cooked meal I made them (OK, it was McDonald’s) we gathered around the toilet to have a small memorial. I held him in the net above the tank.

Emily spoke first. She briefly and sadly mentioned that he was a good fish (are there bad ones?) and that he will be missed. Then it was Alex’s turn. I was curious to see how is first ever eulogy would go.

“I love you Bob,” he said. Then, after what I’m assuming was an appropriate time in his mind but was more like the time it took for him to reconfigure the frown on his face into a more excited expression of boyish enthusiasm, he blurted out, “I wanna’ flush the toilet!”