Bucket Kicked

When we got home last night from visiting my sister/brother in law at the airport, I looked in the tank to see about the fish. Hemingway kicked the bucket. I almost cried. He was lying on his side by the filter, limp and completely unnatural. Dear Sir would not let me tell the kids, so I ended up flushing the guy down the toilet as soon as my oldest crept his way upstairs to bed. He was really bloody. His fins were so messed up from the abuse of Sushi. Poor guy. He really tried to hang on.

So I told the kids this morning about Hemingway. Eraser-Eater burst into tears and cuddled next to me. My oldest said that we could just get one of those 13 cent fish and he would pay for it. My daughter said, "It's all Sushi's fault!" and that was the end of it. I was more upset than they were. I think probably because I tried so hard to keep the guy alive. It probably would have made more sense if he died by his own fin. True Hemingway fashion.

So, I think we will grieve for three weeks and then get another fancy-tailed fish. Any suggestions on a cool name? Fitzgerald? Hardy? Dreiser? Collins? I am going to try to get the kids to let me name it Wilkie.

Poor Hemingway, I have forgotten about him already.