Bubba's dead.
My wife is a kindergarten teacher and as such she recieves a plethora of gifts throughout the year. In her first year of teaching, one parent gave her a Beta fish. It was a beautiful little guy (or girl...couldn't really tell, you know?) with a dark blue main color and some red on his fins and what not. My wife held a contest with her students to name the fish. Somehow, and I'll never understand this, the name "Bubba" beat out the likes of "Fish", "Nemo" and my personal favorite, "Shark".
Well, winter break came and my wife brought Bubba home to take care of him during the break. Somehow, in someway, something happened to Bubba. We thought he had died, but we think now maybe he had a fish stroke. All we know is he could no longer use the right side of his body. He would lay on the bottom of the bowl and just swim around with the left side. Eventually, he could no longer reach the top of the bowl so we had to transfer him to a little dish so it wouldn't take so much effort to get his food. Slowly, but surely, all the color began to fade from his little body. His vibrant blue turned to a more familiar fishy silver. The crimson red now turned to something of a rust color. Not wanting to disappoint the kids, my wife pulled the ol' switcharoo and bought a new beta so her kids wouldn't have to see this now decrepit looking one.
The new "Bubba" looked almost identical and had way more energy than the old "Bubba". When my wife would come home on a break she would place the new Bubba by the old Bubba and it was very sad. The vibrant colors on new Bubba made you feel sorry for old Bubba.
Then a funny thing happened. New Bubba died. After only about 8 months, one morning he was done. And in the little cup next to new dead Bubba was Old Bubba swimming around on his side.
So Old Bubba became something of a legend. Though he looked like a fish version of Skeletor, he continued to be his little retarded fish-self. Soon he became very endearing to us and we even moved him into our master bath vanity so we could say hey to him every morning and make sure he was doing okay.
On Wednesday, April 11th, at approx. 5:15 a.m., Old Bubba met Jesus. He had outlasted New Bubba by almost two years. As I flushed his little body down the toilet, I must admit I was a little sad. Such a survivor.
I felt the need to dignify his life with some sort of remembrance. It may not be much, and only about two of you will read this, but at least it's something....a moment for Bubba.
Single tear.
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1 comment:
i don't want to laugh at this because i like it, but SKELETOR?! HAHAHAHA. such a great story. and that is pretty sad. one time i went into the bathroom here in the eac and there was a gigantic dead fish in one of the toilets. you're always scared to see things in toilets before you enter the stall, but you never just EXPECT a fish to be there.
i MISS you and your precious wife so much, even more after reading this.
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