Well, our betta fish lasted almost two months. That's not too bad, right?
Joshua Fish was acting pretty piqued Tuesday, and when I got up Wednesday he was, well, unresponsive. He wasn't floating upside down, but when we shook the bowl gently, he didn't swim; he just sort of...bobbed. And his lovely red color was pretty darn faded.
"Oh, yeah," The Engineer assured me. "He's dead."
While I didn't exactly have a deep emotional closeness to Joshua, I have to say I was disappointed. It didn't help that I think I may have inadvertently killed him, or at least sped up his demise (as he may have already been sick), when I switched out his water. Too many water conditioning drops? Too much time sitting in a tiny little cup of old water while the new water got to the right temperature? Or was it just his time?
And then there was just the "ew" factor--I really didn't want to deal with a dead fish. So The Engineer agreed to conduct the burial (well, the flushing.)
When Chickie got up, I knelt next to her. "Chickie," I said gently, "Joshua fish is dead."
She asked questions, which I answered, and then I asked her, "Are you sad?"
"No," she answered in a cheerful, matter-of fact voice.
All righty, then. I'm glad she wasn't upset. And while it didn't ruin my day (or even my morning), I gotta say--I kind of miss the little guy.