The last time that my daughter screamed that loudly was last
summer when I knocked a mug of scalding black tea into her lap. My poor little darling. So, when I heard ‘that’ scream last night, I instantly
thought that she had been burned. To my
relief, she was fine. Although I can’t
say the same for the fishie floating in the fish tank. George was dead as, well, a dead
goldfish. More screams followed as we discovered
a second corpse. ‘Oh Nooooo, not Goldie toooooooooooooooooo’,
she cried. I looked for the third fish,
Whitey. There he was, swimming away happily, unaware of the drama unfolding
around him (actually, unfolding around HER, Mya insists that Whitey is a girl).
I can’t say that the death of George came as a
surprise. In the last few months, he had
developed a fibrous growth on his back. It
looked like some sort of tumour. Mya
wanted me to bring the goldfish to the vet.
I actually did a google search on ‘can you bring a goldfish to the vet?’. And actually, you can. In some places. There were photographs of life saving
operations on goldfish. I-kid-you-not. Fees were in the region of e300. Yikes ! I didn't bother to investigate if my vet carried out such procedures.
The children told me that I was a big meanie for not
bringing George to the vet to have this growth investigated. They couldn’t
see the rationale in me bringing Hudson, our dog to the vet, but not our
goldfish. I couldn’t bring myself to say to them that I
love our dog, but that I wasn’t that pushed about George or his mates. I mean, they are nice to look at, but let’s
face it, not much craic. And no, I wasn’t spending e300 on him. Call the ISPCA if you want. I stand over my decision.
In fact, such is my love for my dog that I actually prefer cleaning up
dog vomit/poo than cleaning the fish tank.
While I’m here - Did I tell ye about how Hudson, unknown to me, recently gorging
himself on multiple butter sachets – the ones in gold foil wrapping ? I only discovered his binge when I found a puddle of melted butter/crumpled tin foil the following morning ? The children hopped in delighted behind me as
I cleared it up in my pyjamas ‘Is it poo or vomit Mam
?’ they asked amid hoots of laughter, ‘It’s SOOOoooooo disgusting.’
In case you think I’m a callous fish-hating bitch, my goldfish with the
growth, actually looked quite happy. He
was a good colour, he hadn’t lost weight and his scales and eyes looked
good. (I watch A-Day-In-The-Zoo type
programmes, so obviously I speak with some authority here). In goldfish years, they were a 'good age' when they died.
It was a shock all the same when poor George finally carked
it yesterday alongside his buddy. That has
happened before, where two fish die around the same time. Maybe the first body releases some toxins
or something that the second one digests ? Or maybe it was just bad timing.
I am pretty sure that they were alive when I fed them yesterday morning. I think.
My little woman cried for a good hour about her fishies last
night. There were lots of cuddles. Lots and lots. We fished the corpses out of the tank and had
a good look at them.
I tried to console her. ‘But don’t they look happy Mya ?’
She had a good look at the lifeless bodies. ‘Not really Mam’.
More tears.
Shite, bad choice of words. I meant to say something along the lines that it that it didn't look like they had suffered. But she was right. They didn’t look happy. They just
looked dead.
‘But weren’t they lucky that they had such a good life here in
Poppy Cottage ? Look how long they lived
for. And how big they grew. They had a good life.’
She nodded. We were
getting places. She touched them
tentatively. We had a look at the growth
on George’s back. For the wee size of
him, it was big.
‘Can I see their teeth Mam?’
‘I don’t think they have teeth’.
‘Well, can you check ?’
Darn, I don’t like jobs like that. With appropriate respect for a dead fish, I
picked up George and pressed his cheeks gently.
His little mouth opened. No teeth
to be seen. It was kinda mad how his
mouth opened all the same.
‘Can we get new fish Mam?’
‘Should we not have a mourning period Mya ? At least until
we get over the funeral ?’ or at least until rigor mortis
‘But look at Whitey.
He is so lonely there without his friends’.
Fair point.
We will go fish shopping as soon as the funeral is over.
A joint funeral service with immediate burial afterwards will
take place this morning in Poppy Cottage at 11am. Sugary refreshment will be served
afterwards.
Please keep us in your thoughts.
RIP Goldie and George
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