For Valentine’s Day last year, we bought our then 3-year-old a fish. It was a male Betta fish that she named Sally. We didn’t have the heart to tell her that Sally was really a boy. So Sally lived a double life and we all kept the secret well. Then, this Valentine’s Day, our daughter asked if we could get Sally a birthday present, since Valentine’s Day was the fish’s “birthday”.
We all took a family trip to Petco and purchased a castle and some rocks for our little cross-dressing fish. However, the castle was too big for the bowl. The hubby, being a bit of a carpenter/handy man, sawed off the edge of the castle and it fit in perfectly. Or so we thought.
The castle killed Sally. Our fish died from trying to turn her/his simple little bowl into a palace fit for a princess. Ok, well, actually the fish died because when we cut the castle it released a bunch of toxins into the bowl that eventually killed him/her.
The most entertaining part of all of this was my daughter. I don’t think she has a future as a grief counselor. When we told her that Sally died, the first thing she said was, “Can I flush her down the toilet?? Please??” Uhmmm…sure. It was kind of disturbing to watch how excited she was to flush the fish down the toilet. She was laughing and saying, “whoosh” as if Sally was going down the best water slide of her life.
So dear Sally, let me officially say that I’m sorry. I’m sorry that we never let you be a man. I’m sorry that we tried to put a girly castle and pink rocks in your bowl. And I’m sorry we killed you. I hope you are in a better place. One where people actually remember to feed you and let you be the masculine fish that you were meant to be…