Poor Squishy. You’d think it would be a difficult feat to lose a goldfish. Goldfish shouldn’t disappear out of mid air. Still, that is exactly how I managed to lose my pet goldfish. Instead of having a proper toilet bowl burial, he vanished even before I was able to bring him home and let him live out his long life… staring blankly into my blue bedroom wall.
My story starts on a Friday during my Senior year of high school. The brisk chill of teen spirit and rebellion rushed down the hallways as the temptation of freedom neared, since winter break was almost upon us.
My lovely brunette friend was sweet enough to bring her friends a surprise Christmas present that day. As I closed my eyes she placed a small container in my hand, it felt like a jar. Curious, I opened my eyes to see that the jar contained a shimmery little goldfish. At lunch my friends joked( ironically) that I would be the first to kill mine. My friends had such strong faith in me. Dawww shucks guy, thank you.
Later that day I headed to gym class where my poor little Squishy would go MIA. I set him on a ledge by the athletic office to keep him out of the dodge ball crossfire. They say if you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge a ball. I assumed that this would also work for mason jars full of goldfish, but I decided not to test the theory.
When I went to go fetch him after class, he had disappeared. To my astonishment, he was no where to be seen. I automatically broke down on my knees and began to loudly weep, mourning the brave fish who was taken from me.. never to be seen again. That’s what people are supposed to do right? …..hysterically mourn their lost pet fish in public? Totally.
Although I have never totally gotten over the loss of my dear pet fish, I learned many life lessons out of this experience. Fish are a lot like kids in the sense that….
1) I should never have any
2) Both should not be left unattended in public.