Our fish died this morning. His name was Mickey Red Fish. We called him that because he was red. I used to go over and watch him swimming back and forth…..oh who am I kidding it was a fish! It was in a vase with a plant on top of it. The poor thing got zero lap time. It wouldn’t come out and play, it never stopped taking a bath, the thing shouldn’t even of been called a pet. It was a screen saver with a heart. You’ve got to know when you’re a pet and you hear Mommy’s making supper and she says she’s frying up some of your cousin Felix’s family that you’re not the most beloved member of the clan.
I really didn’t have much interaction with Mickey. Occasionally, in the morning, if I am enough of a bother, I can get Daddy to put me up on the table so I can get a good scratch and be Pocket free, and I’d look over at Mickey, and he’s say to me, “I’ll give you $50.00 if you break the vase and I’ll try to slide my way to the door.” I did not take him up on the offer. I seriously doubt he had that kind of money floating about. Once a month Mommy would change his water, he was such a fuss-budget, and that was time she could have been giving me lap.
Now Mommy says they are going to have to go out and get a new fish. I am sorry but this offended me a little. Why go out and buy a fish when you can adopt one of the millions of fish in the ocean who are in need of a good home? But no, not Mommy and Daddy: no, they are going to run out to some place like Pet Smart and slap down three or four dollars for overly bred fish that probably came from a fishie mill where it’s poor Mom lives in a coffee mug, breeds 400 times a year, and has babies who think living in a vase with a plant on top with six inches of swimming space is a sweet deal!
This morning we all walked over to the toilet with him so he could begin his journey to Rainbow Bridge. When we puppies die we bounce off the moon, fly over the sun, and peacefully land beyond Rainbow Bridge. When you’re a fish you make a break for it like Tim Robbins in the last act of Shawshank Redemption. Mommy said how Mickey was a tough little fish, how each morning she expected him to be tits up (excuse me, I’m not sure about fish tits, but if they exist, they sound like they’re made by Nabisco) but he always gave my Mom a little wave of his tail saying “I’m still here.” She then poured him into the bowl and gave him a three flush salute because he was a great fish and Daddy overstuffed the john again.
I guess I will miss you Mickey Red Fish. Do a flip out of the water and say hi to Moses, Barge, Buttons, Daisy, and my other bridge friends. At least your swimming free, my little friend.