“We’ll look at the fish after you use the washroom.” The pee-pee dance suggested urgency.
“Oh, oh, OH!”
A few weeks ago Caleb’s good bud gave him 4 fish, and he has been so proud. He overfed until we told him it could make the fish sick. In addition to being gleeful to have a pet of his own, he envisioned a fish empire where all his friends could have fish for 10 or 25 cents; pricing was undecided.
Since my experience with fish had been that they died after 24 hours and Caleb is a sensitive sort, I tried to prep him for the short life span. Lessons in mortality come best with experience, but I wanted him to have at least a heads up.
To his credit the fish have survived for weeks. The friend came over and told him the fish he had named “Fatty” should actually be called “Preggy,” and Caleb renamed her “Bertha.” Well, early this week two fish died, and the friend and Caleb had a good-bye in the washroom and gave fresh water to the two remaining fish.
The two remaining fish had fluttering fins and began to discolour, but they were still alive until yesterday. Caleb was certain the fish was sleeping, but he accepted reality and asked for help to get it out and to put in new water.
My stance has been your animals – your care, but I relented a bit because it was sad for him. Well, as I got the fish in the toilet, and he said good-bye someone knocked at the door. Caleb and the guest put the water in the bowl, and I assumed had flushed the dead fish away.
Well, that detail had been forgotten, and we had a dead fish fish/toilet bowl. Mica wanted an empty toilet to do her business, and I don’t blame her.
What surprise will it be today?
What else am I leaving undone?
Chaos on the simplest tasks.