Goodbye, Fabio :(

As you can guess by the title, today has been a very, very sad day. I, the crazy fish lady, don’t even know how to keep a fish alive.

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Yesterday I came home feeling exhausted and relieved – I had just finished my finals for spring classes. It had been a stressful couple of weeks and I was looking forward to having some down time before starting my next class. I walked in and noticed that Fabio, my beautiful, a little-over-a-month-old Betta fish was looking extremely sluggish. Okay, so sluggish is how he was the day before. Yesterday he was just floating up on his side, barely hanging on. I frantically did whatever I could think of to keep him alive. I rushed to the sink and dumped out his water, scooped him out, filled it again, put the dechlorinator in, and put him back in, then gave him some food. Now that I think about it, that was probably the worst thing I could have done. I probably just agitated him more and sped up the shut-down process. But when you’re freaking out, like I always am, you don’t really think about that sort of thing.


All the while I was saying “HANG ON BUDDY!!! NO, FABIO! DON’T DIE! YOU CAN’T DIE!!!” Man, you can imagine how I was when my dog died.

Anyway, I finally realized: Okay, I’m being crazy. He’s just a little fish. And he’s obviously dying. There’s only so much you can do, ya know? So I started the first phase of mourning (complete denial) and went to take a nap.

Let me just interject something here. Taking a nap instead of facing my problems is  classic me. Why do you think I did so well in high school? I just napped away my problems and everything somehow turned out fine. Although, yes, being a (sort of) adult has helped me realize that I should actually handle things instead of avoiding them. I was getting pretty good at this until Fabio’s…Fabio’s what? Who’s Fabio? Oh, right, my fish, that…*swallow*…died. (Look at me, moving on to the acceptance phase!)

After going through the phases of frantic emotional, denial, etc…I’ve accepted it now. It was pretty hard to deny the dead fish smell that was beginning to fill the room where his tank was, too…

Fabio will be missed, but I got over it surprisingly quickly. My friend helped me bury him (he was too important to just be flushed down the toilet). He was a good fish. A beaut. A keeper. See ya in heaven I guess (I have questions about that, actually, but we’ll talk about it some other day).


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