Robyn Anderson

We thought the fish was dead. It was discovered by Sophie who cheerfully yelled – Ruby! Your fish died! We all peered in the bowl. It looked very dead, lying on it’s side on the bright red gravel on the bottom of the bowl.  Then we saw a flicker of a gill and it suddenly rose up, did a cartwheel and a fish forward roll – and laid  back down. There was no denying it, Princess Slinky was on her last fins. Ruby was delighted. She has planned the funeral and the coffin is made. Sophie, who watched a WW1 doco on war horses with me yesterday, (Whaler – highly recommended), now knows a thing or two about death said, “You don’t want the clear lid.”  “Yes I do. I want to see my dead fish”. Sophie rolls her eyes at me and ploughs on. ” You don’t want to see all the skin come off and the skeleton.”  Ruby gave that some thought while I added the bit about gut bacterial extending the innards and Sophie contributed dead fish farts though where that came from I have no idea.  In the end we’ve gone with the see-through coffin lid and a delicately placed tissue over the fish. Everything is working well except Princess Slinky is not co-operating and now seems perfectly normal. I must admit I’m with Ruby on this one. I’d have liked the fish to have died. There is something about the end of my time here that makes a fish funeral appropriate. Even if the coffin does have a see through lid.