Tragedy Strikes.

Friday, June 24th, 2016.

I awoke to horrifying news:
My fishie had died.

His name?
Vanilla Thunder.
We were roommates for 4.5 years;
My cousin had him for a year or two before that.
He’d been a part of our family for so long.

The worst part?
I JUST invested in a brand new container of fish food and threw away the receipt.
I never expected something like this to happen! 

V.T. and I had been through so much together:

  • New jobs
  • New apartments
  • Sickness
  • Health
  • Promotions
  • Heartbreak
  • The loss of his tank mate and lifelong bestie, White Lightning

And the most traumatic situation we experienced together:
The Paralytic Goldfish Scare of February, 2016.

(He spent two full days motionless at the bottom of his tank.
I became incredibly worried and moved his tank to my bedroom, because I figured he was sad and lonely, living in the bathroom.
Turns out, he was just cold.
Because I’m too cheap to heat any room of my apartment, other than the one I sleep in.)

DANIELLE! You almost froze your poor fish to death!’
– I was told.
– I replied.
‘I was simply showing him various conditions in which other fish survive. My goldfish will be nothing if not cultured! Also, I hate having him in my room because he does this super annoying thing where he smacks his lips on the surface of the water at two in the morning and it’s so loud that it wakes me from a dead sleep.’
Most people don’t believe me when I tell them this.
But he did it.
I swear he did it.
And his life almost ended abruptly many times because of it.

Vanilla Thunder was also a pervy little fish.
He would do this super creepy thing:
I would see him staring at me as I sat scantily clad on my couch.
He would get embarrassed that I caught him.
He would moonwalk backwards, out of the situation,
And hide with his head in the bushes until I looked away.
A minute later,
I would catch him staring at me again.

We spent many a Saturday night playing this exhilarating game of ‘cat and mouse.’

‘STOP BEING A PEEPING TOM! I pay good money for this apartment so that I can be nude and undisturbed wherever and whenever I please and you are RUINING IT!’ – I shouted at my goldfish on a daily basis.

And now it’s over.

Never again will we weep together as we watch The Notebook.
No more competitions to see who can make the most realistic fishy-face.
No more judgmental stares as I dance on my coffee table with reckless abandon after finishing a bottle of wine.
My usual ‘What up, bro?!‘ as I enter the room will never again be immediately followed by ‘WHY ARE YOU DOING THAT?!‘ as I watch in horror while he repeatedly smacks his face directly into the side of the tank for absolutely no reason that I can fathom.

After disposing of his remains on the day of his death,
I sought coffee and emotional support from my workplace.

Ticia: ‘Aww..I’m so sorry.’
‘I’m not handling this well.’
‘I’ll buy you a new fish. Let’s go to PetSmart.’
Dani: ‘I CAN’T! I’m not ready yet. I HAVE TEARS IN MY EYES!’

Veteran of the United States Armed Forces: ‘When is the eulogy? I’ll bring my bagpipes. Did he do any time in the goldfish service? I could play taps. You flushed him? I guess we’ll have to have the ceremony around your crapper, then.’

My work-family is better than yours.

I’ve spent the last few days trying to adjust to my new life.
My apartment has since become very quiet;
It contains no heartbeats other than mine.
Unless you count the multitude of ants taking up residence under my oven.
Perhaps I should domesticate them.
Anyone know how to build an ant farm?

(Please don’t actually send me instructions on how to build an ant farm.
That was a joke.
It’s still too soon.
I’m not ready to love again.)

– Dani
😉 🙂 😀