Goodbye Dennis
Emily has a pet goldfish named Dennis. Well...had. Dennis lives in a fish bowl about the size of a bowling ball (not round, just about that tall). Here is how the conversation went the morning Patti and the kids were going on their trip and I was getting ready for work.
<u>Patti</u>: You are going to have to change the water in the fish?s bowl. Do you know how?
<u>Me</u>: I?ll figure it out.
<u>Patti</u>: Fish are very sensitive to a change in water temperature, you have to do it right.
(Patti then explained how I am supposed to do it).
<u>Patti</u>: Did you get that?
<u>Me</u>: Not really, I wasn?t paying attention; can you go through it again?
(Patti patiently explains it again)
<u>Patti</u>: Ok?
<u>Me</u>: I?ll figure it out.
<u>Patti</u>: Dave, if Dennis dies while we are away, you?re gonna have to replace him with a goldfish that looks just like him.
Later in the day Patti called and said she changed the water so I didn?t have to do it. Great, I thought, Dennis will live another week. When I got home that night, I realized Dennis wasn?t moving. And he was at the bottom of the bowl. On his side. With rigor mortis setting in. Despite my best efforts to revive him, Dennis passed.
I stood at attention, took my hat off and placed it across my heart, lowered my head and recited a line from the famous W.H. Auden poem.
?Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves?
Technically I had nothing to do with Dennis? death, after all I didn?t feed him, change the water or even look at him. But since it happened on my watch, I have to replace him. I?ll go to the fish store tomorrow and get another goldfish. Maybe I?ll pick up two since boredom and loneliness probably killed the first one.
Dennis, we hardly knew ye. Be well my old friend, our world is less orange.