I feel really horrible. I feel how an executor must feel when giving a lethal injection.
You know, we got a fish with the house. Hemingway. He is a beautiful long finned goldfish---fat, cute, and happy. After two weeks of living with Hemingway, we liked having a fish so much we decided to get yet another fish. We got a white goldfish and the kids named him Sushi. I thought Hemingway would be happy to have a fellow swimmer in the tank. He wasn't.
Just over the past few days Hemingway has looked rugged and haggard. I didn't get it. I cleaned out the tank, I cleaned out the water, but I was afraid of what was wrong with him. I mean, when I would get him out with the green net, he would barely move, and did not care at all if my hand was near him. His fins were all messed up. They looked ripped and torn. I think he had a nice long fin on top of his head and now it is completely gone. Tonight I was on the phone with a friend and I noticed that Sushi was chasing Hemingway around the tank and nipping at him on his fins. Hemingway was darting here and there to get away.
I realized that Sushi was hurting Hemingway. I had to make a decision. I knew that Hemingway would not make it unless I got rid of Sushi. So I took Sushi and flushed him down the toilet. I immediately felt horrible though because I knew I would have to tell the kids.
I told my oldest first. This is what he said:
"Well, that's ok. He was a murderer anyway, right?"
I told my youngest (the daughter). She almost cried but when I told her what Sushi was doing to Hemingway, she recovered.
I told Eraser-eater. He started bawling. I explained the whole thing to him and he totally understood, but he still wanted Sushi to be in a good place. I had to pray with him that Sushi would find the ocean (he was still alive when I flushed him down the toilet---no shovel this time!) or the lake, and also that Hemingway would make it through the night (which I am not sure will happen).
I felt so bad I had Dear Sir hug me. He told me that we eat fish and it is ok to kill them. Then he called me a fish murderess---a lethal woman.
What would you have done? I know that Hemingway may die, but it is better to have a sick fish than a fish that murders other fish.
Wait a minute. Why do I care about fish? AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!