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Goodbye, Handsome Boy
As I'm sure most of you know, Frankie had been sick for a long time. The last few weeks, his kidneys totally stopped working. He fought it-- most fish with bad kidneys don't make it a week --and he almost made it an entire year. But this recent bout was too much.
On Sunday, he couldn't right himself, and he had trouble breathing. He still showed some fight (he ran all over hell when I showed him the net), so I gave him some medicine and let him be. I didn't want to put him down if he didn't want to go.
He went sometime Monday night. In the typical "I hate you, human" attitude of all bettafish, his last act was to ram himself inside of his favorite airplane decoration so tightly that I had to upturn the whole thing to get him out.
I buried him outside in the little dirt patch, next to an aloe plant. It's pointy and I think it hates me. I think they'll get along.
On Sunday, he couldn't right himself, and he had trouble breathing. He still showed some fight (he ran all over hell when I showed him the net), so I gave him some medicine and let him be. I didn't want to put him down if he didn't want to go.
He went sometime Monday night. In the typical "I hate you, human" attitude of all bettafish, his last act was to ram himself inside of his favorite airplane decoration so tightly that I had to upturn the whole thing to get him out.
I buried him outside in the little dirt patch, next to an aloe plant. It's pointy and I think it hates me. I think they'll get along.
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I think he might be the first one to greet me, when I die, if only to demand food.