Pain of Losing One's Pet

Early Wednesday morning, I was comfortably perched in front of the PC, checking my emails when my lil boy came running to me, blubbering something. Half-listening because I was immersed in an article, I brushed him off mumbling that I'll play with him in a little while. He left me alone but a few seconds later, I heard him calling again, this time I noted an urgency in his voice that I couldn't ignore. I hurried to where he was, and found him banging on the aquarium wall, telling the fish not to go too close to the filter. Two of his pet fish, one gold fish and one golden carp were stuck on the wall of the filter. As this has happened before, I too rapped on the aquarium wall, encouraging the fish to move away from the filter. Alas, they stayed right where they were. Motionless. Lifeless.

With a heavy heart, I told Roo the fish were dead. Tears brimmed in his eyes as he looked at me sadly. We called his daddy on the phone to relate the news, and before I could even finish talking, Roo burst out crying. Poor boy. I know exactly how he feels. Brought me back to one morning almost four years ago...

May 5, 2005. I still remember the date. I still remember the day. It was a Friday morning. I had spent the night alone at home. MY man came home from his night duty, around six-thirty-five a.m. I heard the front door click but knowing it was him, I dozed back to sleep. A few minutes later, he rushed into the bedroom and without thinking blurted out his news, "Meemoe is dead!"

Still heavy with sleep, I sat up. Did I hear him right? Meemoe? My fish? Dead?

Tears started streaming down my face and before I knew it, I was crying. Cried so hard I got hysterical. Why? What did you do? Why did he die??!

Turned out that on his way to the hospital the night before, he had poured in too much food into the aquarium. My fish must have eaten too much and died from...what do you call that, gluttony? That was one of the saddest days of my life.

The first fish I've ever gotten attached to. Got him when MY man and I were still dating. We had spent the afternoon at the park and on the way home we saw this fish shop and decided to stop. We bought a tiny janitor fish, about an inch long, thinking he'd be good for my aquarium. Never really imagined he'd do me some good too!

Over the years he spent with me when I was still single, I'd come home after a long and tiring day at work, he was the only fish who welcomed me home. He was a character, that Meemoe! As in when I walk into the room, he'd swim towards me and keep wagging his tail (do fish wag their tails? ;P) in greeting. I often talked to him, especially when I was stressed out, or I had problems, and he'd just stay there at my corner, swimming in place. Listening. When he wanted to play, he'd follow my finger around the aquarium wall. He could do that for quite some time before getting distracted and swimming away. He was the only fish I've seen who can swim upside down! When he ate, he'd glide through the water, gobble up the food, upside down! And when he's resting, you'd see him swimming in place, head up, tail down, under the driftwood. Reminding me of a sleeping bat. How I miss that fish!

MY man kept him in a bottle of formalin for about two years. I couldn't bear the thought of flushing him down the toilet, nor burying him. And I thought I'd be able to gather up the courage to see him lifeless, but I never did. MY man eventually had to get rid of him, in what way I don't care to know. But getting attached to another fish, I think I never will be. MY man got several more janitors but I never bothered to develop a relationship with them anymore. We still have fish, but for me, they're just fish now. Have my heart guarded.

I could only empathize and hug Roo tight when he cried for his fish.

"Will my fish be in heaven, mommy?"

I hope so, my son. I do hope so.