Fish Murderer

I was going to write this post tomorrow, but I decided that I was hungry before I went to bed so I made myself an egg-on-a-bagel sandwich and had a piece of cake (courtesy of my friend's husband's birthday party), and I can't possibly go horizontal will all that food still in my esophagus (I know, not literally.....but point stands).

So yesterday I finished up my OB/GYN block (as previously noted) and I decided to get myself two gold fish. I named one Sal and the other remained unnamed. Well, when I woke up this morning, Sal was belly up at the bottom of the vase I was using as fish bowl. So, I changed the water and flushed him down the toilet. Sad.

I wasn't heartbroken because I know that many times goldfish don't last that long. Not to say that Sal was a backup, but I wasn't terribly surprised that he croaked. But the bigger guy that was still living, I noticed that he had had a tumour on his side from the moment I got home. When I came home at lunch his tumour was flaking off (aka in medical terms: excoriating) into the water and his tail was turning whitish. Not a good sign for a little fish. When I got home from lab this afternoon, the unnamed fish was also belly up at the bottom of the tank.

That is two fish, dead, within 24 hours. Horrifying. Although the second fish didn't have a name, his death hurt more than the previous death; I had figured I could have had him in my life more than 24 hours. Alas, it wasn't meant to be. When a fish's time comes, a fish's time comes.

As I flushed him down the toilet and watched him swirl away into the abyss of sewage....I thought of the perfect name: Swirls.

I go to bed mourning the loss of two fish.