Friday, December 14, 2007

Alas, poor Phyl. I knew him well.

Phyl was never a very lovable phish. He didn't huff and puff up when a mirror was held up to the outside of his glass realm as his predecessor did. He mostly just lay around in a mopish fashion. Not a very demonstrable beta phish.

Well, he went from sedate to absolutely immobile over the past few weeks - refusing to eat and laying either on the bottom or tucking himself into the roots of the plant that shares the top part of his world. Finally, today, I plucked the plant out taking a deceased looking Phyl with it.

A grasp of the tail, a query and a shake. "Phyl, are you still with us?" Nothing. OK, so off to the burial ground around the corner just as my son came up the stairs. "What are you doing?" says he. "Say goodbye to Phyl" says I as I quickly dropped him into his porcelain casket and sent him down the river Styx.

But wait - was that a wiggle?

3 Comments:

Blogger lime said...

LOL. when the oldest limelet had her first pets at age 5, a tank of goldfish, they did not last too long. each morning we'd find one or two belly up and commence to 'burial at sea.' one day a friend came over and asked our little dear where all of her fish were. she gently laid a hand on this person's shoulders, looked into his eyes and said solemnly, 'they're all in...potty heaven.'

8:00 PM, December 14, 2007  
Blogger Cheesy said...

I am sooo sorry but I giggled...
**hanging my head in shame***
I'll bet the dog doesn't relax too deeply around you now??

10:37 PM, December 14, 2007  
Blogger Kristie said...

Ay, poor Phyl, we hardly knew ye.

11:05 PM, December 14, 2007  

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