So Long, Suki

Suki, our beta fish, died yesterday, sometime between his afternoon and night feeding.

We found him, rigored, on Finn's carpet, covered in carpet hairs. Suki had had his bowl cleaned the night before, and apparently the excitement caused him to jump for joy--an exburance that quickly turned suicidal when Suki found himself flailing on the carpet, unable to wiggle his way up to his digs.

We sent Suki back to the big waters. Finn officiated. I said an impromptu eulogy. Finn mocked sadness for about 10 minutes, then as he was brushing his teeth, I think the full weight of the loss hit him.

Finn had a fish before (Dash-cum-Sean), but never took responsibility for it as he had with Suki. He told Suki things. He pointed out where his pellets floated. He asked about his day. He lectured him on overeating.

And, every now and then, I think we all saw Suki answer, in his pucker-mouthed, fishy way.