glass casket
I kissed brian goodbye and saw that Walter was sideways under a leaf of his fake plastic plant, fins gently flailing.
Ooh no ... !
I stood on a chair and pulled the plant a bit away from him, and he bobbed up and down near the bottom. Toward the front glass wall, to the back, over the bubbling filter, where I found him when I came back from the shower and where he is still, held in some bouyant equillibrium, halfway between the top and bottom, animation and stillness, life and death. He's been puffy behind the gills for about a week, but he was swimming like an ace so after the first day or two I thought maybe it was fine - upper torso bulging so the scales stuck out like a pinecone. Today I think not.
I thought about trying to right him, but Walter's at least two years old, much older than many fish, and I know there's not much hope. Sometimes, when I've been stressed, I have dreams he swims out of his aquarium and wakes me up or tries to leave the apartment. I think in these dreams he's representing my responsibilities, the people or projects that depend on me. I'd like it if in the dreams I usually got him back into his aquarium, and sometimes I'm sure I do, but I think most often the dream progresses on and leaves my fish swimming in the background, forgotten.
He's still sideways, twisted, I'm sure painfully. His smooth white belly is stretched toward me, and tiny bubbles are collecting in the crevices of his body. I've had with this fish longer than most of my friends. Occasionally I'm struck with the idea that there's a lifecontained in the corner of my room, suspended in ten gallons of treated tap water, tiny gravel and fake plants. It's more disarming to know there's a quiet little life ending there now.
Ooh no ... !
I stood on a chair and pulled the plant a bit away from him, and he bobbed up and down near the bottom. Toward the front glass wall, to the back, over the bubbling filter, where I found him when I came back from the shower and where he is still, held in some bouyant equillibrium, halfway between the top and bottom, animation and stillness, life and death. He's been puffy behind the gills for about a week, but he was swimming like an ace so after the first day or two I thought maybe it was fine - upper torso bulging so the scales stuck out like a pinecone. Today I think not.
I thought about trying to right him, but Walter's at least two years old, much older than many fish, and I know there's not much hope. Sometimes, when I've been stressed, I have dreams he swims out of his aquarium and wakes me up or tries to leave the apartment. I think in these dreams he's representing my responsibilities, the people or projects that depend on me. I'd like it if in the dreams I usually got him back into his aquarium, and sometimes I'm sure I do, but I think most often the dream progresses on and leaves my fish swimming in the background, forgotten.
He's still sideways, twisted, I'm sure painfully. His smooth white belly is stretched toward me, and tiny bubbles are collecting in the crevices of his body. I've had with this fish longer than most of my friends. Occasionally I'm struck with the idea that there's a lifecontained in the corner of my room, suspended in ten gallons of treated tap water, tiny gravel and fake plants. It's more disarming to know there's a quiet little life ending there now.