Til Death Do Us Part

There are few times in life when you have a friend that is not only loyal, beautiful and caring, but also can hold his breath for hours.

In March of 2011 I was visiting a pet shop with my co-worker Amy. We walked around browsing the puppies and kittens, small rodents, and reptiles. Nothing particular caught my eye until I rounded a corner and saw a fish so beautiful, it made me reflect on myself as a person. I immediately bought him and proudly displayed him on my desk for the world to enjoy.

Brian was not just a fish. Brian was a proud member of my cubicle. Every day I was greeted warmly by Brian as he waited for his daily ration of three Betta Bites.After eating he would retire to his leaf hammock and enjoy watching me work at my computer nearby.

Our relationship blossomed for nearly a year until last week disaster struck. As had become our routine, when his bowl became dirty I took him to the kitchen and put him in an old butter container while he awaited his quarters to be cleaned. The cleaning was fairly simple. I would pour bleach and dish soap into his water, after about an hour I would rinse the bowl thoroughly, add new water, and return him to his suite.

This particular day I was very busy so I put him in his butter bowl, added bleach to his glass bowl, and went back to my office to finish up some work before it was time to go home for the day.  Having much on my mind, I went home that evening having left Brian in the kitchen. Feeling bad about it I sent a text to Amy telling her what I had done. Amy offered to drive over and save Brian from the kitchen, and that's when things went terribly wrong.

Ten minutes after texting Amy, she sent back a reply that read, "I put him back in his bowl and on your desk".
She had no idea that I had left the bowl full of liquid death. By the time the weight of what her text message meant had hit me....it was too late.

As soon as Brian hit the water, the bleach began to kill him. Burning his gills, it became very difficult for Brian to breathe. It then attacked his scales making it hard for him to swim the surface for much needed oxygen. Although Brian remained strong as he always had, the chemicals in his bowl were too much for him to overcome. He gathered his strength, took one last lap around the bowl, and died.

I like to think that the last thing that went through his mind were thoughts of the day I brought him home from the pet store. Or perhaps the day Beau Ford brought him sea shells from his vacation to Florida.

The next day, people from offices all over the building came by for a private viewing of Brian. We said our goodbyes, and to a recording of Taps played on Amy's Iphone, we buried Brian at sea via the toilet in the reception room.

Goodbye Brian. We will miss you always.