I wasn't quite fast enough with this blog post.
On Saturday Garry went to Walmart with a list that included a fish net and fish food for Zachary's newly acquired pet. When I signed his permission slip, I told him his fish would live in a vase. I fully expected it to die right away, and that would be that. No financial or emotional investment. Just another brief trial and a "win" in Mom's anti-pet column. (I know, I know...I'm so callous.)
Then Garry came home with food and net, plus a bowl, rocks, fake plant...and three more fish. He spent less than ten dollars on the lot and the kids were thrilled. The new goldfish were quickly named: Creamsicle, Yeti, and Bob. All day Saturday, I expected one of them to go belly-up. After all, our record with fish is 3 days, and last time Gavin killed two in 24 hours.
Yesterday I thought it was so weird that the little fishies continued to swim. And then, after the kids went to bed, Bob died. Bob was Tyler's fish. We left him in the bowl overnight so Tyler could see him before he got flushed. It was a tragic scene.
Somehow, "I told you so" doesn't seem like appropriate commentary at a funeral. At least Tyler lost a tooth yesterday and can console himself with the dollar he found under his pillow.