We recently lost another fish. Tragically, we've been through a number of fish since the decision was first made to decorate the Bean's room with a betta. After losing Sushi 6.0, we decided to move his replacement, Sushi #7, to a bigger bowl in our den.
Surprisingly, it was not Sushi #7 who departed this mortal coil. It was our back up fish, Sashimi. We had bought Sashimi because shortly after relocating Sushi, he started floating askew, which we had come to realize was an ever-increasingly familiar sign that he didn't have much life left in him. So rather than have to keep a dead fish in our house until we could sneak in a replacement, WonderWife™ stocked up.
But even though Sushi 7 didn't seem like it, he was a fighter and defied the odds by continuing to live, as if he were the star of one of those inspirational movies on Lifetime. No, it was Sashimi who we found motionless at the bottom of his bowl (bettas sink when dead).
Not that the Bean has registered any of this. Captain Oblivious didn't notice that there were seven different fish of slightly different sizes and colors in his room. He barely batted an eye when we ended up with two fish. And he certainly hasn't stopped to realize that we are once again a one fish family.
We kept getting new fish to avoid the inevitable questions about death. However, last year we were forced to face the Grim Reaper when our neighbor's dog passed away. One day the Bean asked us where the dog went.
"He died," we told him, bracing ourselves for an onslaught of questions.
"Oh, okay," he said and went back to playing with his Mater car.
At this rate, it's not looking likely that Captain Oblivious will crack the case of the missing fish any time soon. Which is fine by me. I still have no idea how I'm going to explain death to that kid. And besides, bettas are boring pets anyway.