R.I.P. Fishy

Fishy, my silently inherited red Betta fish passed away this week. He lived to be one years old, which in a Betta's life is like 80, and given my history of caring for fish, is impossible. (His predecessor was murdered by the sunlight and poor judgement when I left his bowl for all to admire on my coffee table and the stream of daylight the following day had cooked him.) Although cold-blooded creatures freak me out, and the slightest possibility of chancing a single splash of his fecal water splashing up on me greatly reduced his bowl cleanings, he was a good fish. He always ate with tenacity, and given that was the only emotion he could share with me, I appreciated it. I even made guests watch his bowl when I fed him for the highly anti-climactic bite he would take near the top of the bowl. In searching for a look-a-like, I found this Fishy, fishy indeed. I guess brilliant creativity come one-in-a-twenty these days. But thia is the closest picture I was able to find. I'm pretty sure that Marley was staring at his empty space in my wall unit last night. *We will never replace you.*