Dennis the Fish, R.I.P.

The seven year old made the tearful discovery this morning that Dennis, the blue beta who served as her class pet at St. Marie of the Blessed Educational Method, and of whom we've been taking care this summer, had shuffled off this mortal coil some time in the night. Poor thing (the Llama-ette, I mean, not the fish). But I suppose part of the function of having pets as a child is that they teach one to come to grips with death as part of the cycle of life.

The Missus was very quick to point out that this kind of fish only lasts about a year, that Dennis had a long and happy life, that the seven year old had been a good steward and that he died peacefully. Whether the Missus was correct about the lifespan of a beta or whether we, in fact, had put too much cleaner into his water yesterday, I dunno, but her quick thinking did much to cut short the seven year old's grief, grief that vanished almost entirely when she learned that she would be the one who got to pick out and name Dennis' replacement. Nonetheless, the seven year old felt compelled to hold a short memorial service after church, in which she said a few suitable words about "her favorite pet fish in the whole world."

Meanwhile, the remains, in time honored fashion, were committed to the deep via the upstairs potty, much to the delight of the nine and five year olds, for whom the spectacle seemed well worth the sacrifice.