My fish died. No, this is not a crying 4 year old. I am a crying 30 year old and my f**king fish died. I have been crying all day.
Yes, I know. I am 30 years old and my life has been blanketed in death for the last ten years but my fish, really, my fish?!
Maud’Dib was my kitchen fish buddy. He has been there with me through pasta sauce, chopping, jalapeno in the eye, kitchen sink over – flow, cats on the counter and some rather personal moments with my husband. Through the crying fits, tequila, grilled cheeses and ice cubes. He was my special little guy. Always happy to see me and always hoping the husband unit would give him some brine shrimp.
Now his little counter-top fish tank sits quiet with no light. His pretty little blue – black scales now lie underneath our great tree on the side of the house. I miss him. He was given to me by a dear friend that I miss very much. Now I will have to miss him too. My lovely Uncle did the dishes for me today so as I did not have to see his empty, cold tank. Needless to say, I have avoided the kitchen all day.
So now I curl up on the couch with my tequila and watch “chick – flicks” so that I may blubber further. I don’t want to look at his damn tank. I don’t want to know that I loved a stupid fish, whom was never stupid or “just” a fish to me. I miss my little guy.
Lets just hope that Kathy Bates can get me through this… or is it time for Thelma and Louise? I sure as hell hope not.
R.I.P. My dear Maud’Dib. You were feisty and always hungry. I actually loved you very much. No fish can fill your tank. You really were one of a kind. I will miss you. 🙁