Fishicide

So about 6 months ago, we thought it would be fun to get a pet. We're currently renting our house, as we couldn't sell our house in NY (don't even get me started on THAT), and the lease clearly states that no substantial pets (cats, dogs, etc) are allowed. So we got the boys each a betta fish. They require minimal care - feed every 2-3 days, change the water every 1-2 weeks - so it was a perfect match for a busy family. Ben and Logan each chose their fish, the colored rocks for the bowl, and a plastic plant. We got home, set the bowls up, and the boys named their fish. Ben named his Red Fish Blue Fish (a perfect name!) and Logan named his Sweetie Pie (such a lovebug he is).

Things went great. "Minimal care" is totally accurate - the fish have been fine. And the boys are still fairly interested in them, which is nice.

Fast forward to this morning. Logan woke up at around 5:30, as usual. He joined me in the bathroom while I showered (at what age is this considered inappropriate?!), and when I started to get dressed he announced that he was going downstairs. "Great," I said. "Turn on the TV. I'll be down in a few minutes." I was mostly dressed when I heard Logan yell, "Mommy! Daddy! I can't see Sweetie Pie!" Ugh. I immediately thought my little mischief-maker was up to something. I went downstairs and saw Sweetie Pie... in the bottom of his bowl, motionless. Then I noticed that the counter was covered in water. THEN I noticed the two clementine oranges and one hair elastic that were in Sweetie Pie's bowl. Oy.

My hubby came down, and I suggested he change SP's water, to see if that perked him up. It didn't. All day I was nervous as to what I would find when I got home. I ended up spending more time than I had planned for at my company's HQ, and decided to work from home this afternoon. I got home at around 3:45 and SP was still motionless, this time belly-up, on the bottom of his bowl. He's taking breaths every so often, and his teeny side fins sometimes move. (I have to admit that I briefly considered flushing Sweetie Pie and rushing out to PetCo to get an exact replica.)

A short while ago, I wondered if he'd be more comfortable not-belly-up, so I flipped him over (I used a plastic fork. Isn't that awful?!). His teeny side fins continued to flap, but his big top and bottom and back fins didn't move at all. I began to wonder if he was paralyzed. Then Logan, who was sitting at the island counter, which is where he was this morning, announced that he had in fact taken Sweetie Pie OUT of his bowl this morning. Ack! I'm no longer thinking that SP has suffered head trauma by Clementine - I now think that his poor little fish body was squeezed :( Poor thing!

So now I have the daunting task of explaining death to my children. I've already told them that Sweetie Pie is sick... very, very sick. I'm not sure if I should go into more detail than that right before bed. Perhaps when my hubby gets home he'll put the poor thing out of his misery and flush him. Death will be a little easier to explain tomorrow morning, I think. I wish there was an easy answer to this!