To Love is to Bury

Every once in a while sad days roll around.

In the grander scheme of things, the death of a fish pales, but often it’s in the small mundane elements of life that you get to the real meaning of things, and today, losing Invincible the Fish, or just plain old Fishy, made me cry.

A fish is a much maligned pet. They’re denounced for being short of memory (they don’t seem to be), or for being non interactive (rubbish, he used to throw stones at the wall of his tank to attract our attention, usually related to food). That wasn’t our experience. Having a fish was a lovely happy constant in our lives for almost 12 years.

We buried him between the mock orange and the azalea, under a pottery water jug.

We miss him a lot.