Today, the last of our tinfoil barbs passed away. I will miss their googly eyes and spooky antics, especially since I am responsible for their demise. I suspect they outgrew their tank–four nine-inch fish in a 65 gall on aquarium is pushing capacity. Lately, it seemed as if they were continuously ill, covered with cottony scratches from ricocheting about the aquarium and swimming at peculiar angles.
Every fish owner knows the litany of water quality, filtration, aeration and medication necessary for healthy pets, and how frustrating it is when all your best efforts fail and your little friends wind up cloudy-eyed and dead by the bubbler.
I suppose a little death should not be so troubling. But it nags. A piece of the world you were responsible for is gone forever.
This little failure generates thoughts of future bigger failures. When will I witness the deterioration and demise of a loved one, with the same feelings of impotence? Life continues despite your success or failure. Maybe that is why some people think God must be forgiving. You have to forgive yourself. Maybe in a week or so I’ll buy some new fish.