Muses

Musing on disposing of death.

It was Friday I think.

I can’t remember because so much has happened since then — but I went into my son’s room to feed his two fish and

one fish looked normal,

and I couldn’t find the other fish to see if he looked normal or not.

That’s when I started to think when I found him he probably wasn’t going to look normal.

If you consider swimming and breathing through his gills in and out, in and out — gathering oxygen from the water — the best way to find a goldfish.

I found him.

This happened while children were at school. Scooped him up. It was Crystal I think. So I guess he was a she, at least in name.

I disposed of Crystal with little fanfare. Who can take the time to find a bitty box? It’s not like I keep small containers around for goldfish sarcophaguses. (Though lately it seems like that might be prudent.)

I went about my work, never making it to the store to replace her or him or well, maybe I should say to replace Crystal.

Approximately 48 hours. That’s how long it too my son to discover only Nemo II remained.

To surprise he took it rather well. Then he asked if I buried her.

I lied.

Or mumbled something.

Sometimes it’s just best to mumble when mumbling would spare an innocent hurt. When mumbling would spare you precious time having to comfort a sobbing child.

So once again the littlest one of the Miles’ household didn’t make it very long. But soon we will have a few new babies to loving foster to maturity.

For this is what the Easter Bunny brought the children in their baskets.