Through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God.
Mr. Fishy, officially named Leviathan, died last night. This morning I noticed he was belly-up (well, on his side; with all those fins no betta could truly go belly-up); Ian’s exploratory prodding confirmed my fears. Our pet of one year had gone on to the big fish tank in the sky. Ian took him and flushed him down the last long swim, and now our fish tank stands empty and sad.
Goodbye, Mr. Fishy. We will miss you when we remember your flitting, your occasional attacking-enthusiasm for your food that led to bitten fingers, your perching on leaves, and your penchant for wedging yourself face-first into odd positions, viz: