Birdy II has gone to eternal rest. I am too tired and too busy to write an ode for this fish or an obituary, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t a good fish. He was fat and healthy and liked to do what goldfish do – eat and swim around his tank.
Sadly, he started looking ill a few days ago, and we did our best to keep him from being snagged by the claws of death. Dave spent $30 on medication at the local pet supply store. Granted, we also spent almost a 100 buckaroos on our original fish tank setup and have now lost three 10-cent fish. Maybe next time we should just stick the suckers in a glass bowl with colored gravel and be done with it because Dave’s noble efforts were futile (the things parents do for their children).
On Tuesday morning, I awoke to a small voice saying, “Mommy, I think Birdy is dead.” And he was. Very dead – floating bottom up in his fancy schmancy tank with cloudy, open eyes staring at us.
My 3-year-old was composed and quite stoic, looking at her dead friend. I, on the other hand, was on the verge of tears when I saw Birdy II’s corpse. So much for moms being the glue that holds their families together. I am such a sappy geek.
“Mommy, we can get another fish,” Madeline reminded me. “It’s ‘otay.’ I’m ‘otay.’ I’m brave about fish dying.”
The poor girl has had a lot of practice.
So I say, “Death be not proud!” There are more fish to be bought, and there’s a hopeful girl who believes one will actually live for more than a few months (or certainly beyond a day like Golden and Birdy I, the very first pet fish who left us for the toilet bowl in less than 24 hours).
We’re going to wait just a few days before we welcome another fishy friend into our home. We need time to mourn and perhaps time to research a hardier variety of fish. We’re also hoping Madeline will choose a less confusing name for her fish than Birdy, so her 15-month-old sister will no longer think a fish is a bird.
Good-bye, Birdy II. You will be missed.