| So, in case you were wondering where I've been:
www.saltysavorysweet.blogspot.com
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| Farewell, Seymour
For almost two and a half years, he lived in a one-gallon tank on the desk in my office, and he always looked pissed off. Even his chewing looked angry. If I held a mirror up to the side of the tank, he would flare out his gills at his own reflection, darting furiously back and forth until I took it away. But most of the time Seymour was just kind of chillin': resting in the corner under his plant, fins lazily fluttering in my direction.
He'd gotten rapidly sick in the last week and last night I assumed I'd walk in the next day and find him already dead. To my surprise this morning he was still moving, albeit sluggishly. I knew it was possible he could languish in misery, and I had done all this research on fish euthanasia and was prepared to dose him with clove oil and vodka. But within an hour of my arrival he started rolling onto his side. As I watched, he settled into a corner of the tank and eventually just stopped moving. I know this is probably over-sentimental, but it was as if he had decided to wait for me before dying.
He lived a good, if grumpy life. Maybe that's more than a lot of us can say.
Rest in peace, little fishie. |
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