A fish is not something you really grow attached to. They don’t sit in your lap or play catch with a ball or chase you around the house. They don’t cuddle up next to you on the couch after you have had surgery and try to comfort you. They don’t share your pillow when you take a nap in the afternoon. They don’t jump and wag or rub against your leg and greet you when you come home after a long hard day and just make everything right. They just swim, eat and swim.
Two years ago this week I bought a siamese fighter fish. He was a beauty. He was a very dark blue, almost black with one streak of brilliant turquoise on his lower fin. I got a nice sized aquarium for him and he lived alone in their in luxury. But unlike other fishes, when you came home he swam to the top to greet you, he stayed there and enjoyed a back scratch and came to the surface when you called him. His name was Pish.
Tonight, almost exactly two years to the day since we brought him home, Pish swam off to the big aquarium in the sky. He went quietly. And although you never think that you’ll miss a fish, I look at his empty aquarium and I miss the little guy.
Goodbye my little friend. I will miss your beauty and your charm and the unusual way you greeted us when we came home.
Composed by Basil Rene using WordPress for BlackBerry.