Yesterday morning, I was practicing my note on the violin when I remembered that I hadn't fed Valentine and Clementine yet.
After drinking a second cup of coffee, emptying the dishwasher, checking the Halloween weather forecast, and scheming ways to get my hands on some swine flu vaccine, I went upstairs to tend to the fish.
As far as I could tell, Clementine was exhibiting normal goldfish behavior, but Valentine was dead.
Carp! I mean, "crap!"
I scurried away to consult Dr. Google ("What does it mean if my goldfish is floating head down and not moving or breathing?"), posted it all over Facebook and Twitter, and was temporarily bouyed by the myriad of possible ailments that might cause a goldfish to behave in this manner (and believe me, there are quite a few.)
I'd peek in on him with hope throughout the day, but he looked dead every time.
When the P-Dawg came home that evening, I cornered him.
"I have some bad news. Either Valentine is dead, or very, very ill. He's floating motionless at the bottom of the tank, tangled up in some seaweed next to SpongeBob. I first noticed it this morning and have been monitoring the situation hourly."
"To make sure he's still dead?"
"Shut up! He might be constipated."
The P-Dawg went upstairs to investigate and silently pronounced him at around 8:30 PM while the little V-meister hovered obliviously about, marveling at Valentine's ability to sleep upside down. Then he scooped Valentine out of the tank and made his stealthy way to the bathroom down the hall.
"Where are you taking Valentine, Daddy? Is he still sleeping?" the V-meister wanted to know.
The bathroom door closed swiftly and soon a hearty flush was heard.
When P-Dawg emerged, the V-meiser was beside herself with grief. "WHAT DID YOU DO WITH VALENTINE?" she wailed.
The P-Dawg couldn't break it to her. We just weren't prepared for "the talk" yet.
"I'll tell you tomorrow," he said.
But the V-meister persisted, so the P-Dawg had no other choice but to tell her
. . . a honkin' pack of lies.
(Valentine, you see, had been unwell in her tank environment and therefore had to go - via our bathroom plumbing - straight into Lake Erie, where she is now swimming happily about with her toxic friends.)
Another thing that went down the toilet last night: my earlier pledge to be honest with my kids about the harsh realities of life.
*Apologies to Al Franken
Thursday, October 29, 2009
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10 comments:
Giggling.
LOL
At least you came up with a somewhat realistic lie!
Tsk, tsk, Tsk... Let's hope she doesn't start diagnosing on her own and curing healthy fish with a trip to Lake Erie.
That last line made me snort!! I spent an agonizing half hour explaining away all the WW1 references in The Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown. If Charlie asks, the plane ran out of gas and had to land quickly, it was NOT shot down!
And I haven't forgotten about your CD. We don't have any CDs and I am not capable of the most basic of tasks like adding items to a shopping list. But now that I've said this, I bet I will remember!
So funny! We were very worried about Shark Boy being upset when we got a fish tank and knew a few would bite the dust. He's been very good and realistic about it though, even doing the flushing himself.
Cheri - When I was a kid, my parent gave our beagle away to live on a farm where he could roam free and howl to his heart's content. BUT HE REALLY DID GO TO A FARM.
Right?
Oops.
Time to watched Flushed Away?
Haha! You are not alone. I tell my boys that I am covering up the buggies to go to sleep when in reality I am crushing the filthy little things with a kleenex. ;)
you mean it's not true that we flush the fish to free them???
waaaaahhhhhh.....
My heart melted over this post.
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