dead fish

I mean, here’s one. Because at TheGloss we don’t just bring you fashion and beauty, we bring you impromptu eulogies.

Courtesy of my friend Ted, who is memorializing his childhood fish, here, with us. With all of you sweet, painted, mean girls.

About 6 years ago, I had a fish tank stocked with these stupid aggressive fish that needed to eat these 5 cent feeder goldfish. I bought a couple and tossed them in, presumably to their doom. I woke up the next morning to find all of the fish dead, no: massacred. All except for one 5 cent feeder fish and his buddy. These fish won the respect of my family through their gladiatorial victory. They could stay.

5 years went by and these 2 best friend ninjas got huge. Like, almost as big as those fish you see in sushi places. Then one day we found one of them belly up. We put that guy out to pasture (read: toilet), only to find the other fish wouldn’t move. He wouldn’t eat. He just sat there for 3 months at the bottom of the tank, nearly motionless. 

He sort of came to life one morning as my mom went to drop some fish food in there. He wiggled to the top, and waited on his side, pretending to be dead. Mom literally started petting him on his side, whispering mom stuff to him, and he slowly realized how silly his suicide attempt was. 

That little guy went along like this for another year, feeding, being petted, swimming, until he finally gave up the ghost this week, far outliving his 5 cent quota. We never named either of them, partially out of fear, partially out of respect. They will both live on in our hearts.

You can either leave you condolences for Ted and his loss in the comments, or you can top this with more impressive stories about the pets of your youth. I guess it really depends on what kind of person you are.