Something FishyPosted: June 16, 2008
Clem’s looking a bit green around the gills. Which isn’t too surprising considering his age. We got our goldfish Clementine (so named by Ben because I was eating one at the time) for 29 cents 5½ years ago. In goldfish years that would make him about as old as Noah was when he died — 950 year old according to Genesis 9:29.
Clem has outlived a number of companions and has been living the single lifestyle in our family room for over a year. His years of hard living have slowed him down a bit but he’s hanging in there. Bryna and I swore he was on his last fins a couple of months ago. We kept expecting to see him floating on top of his tank every morning when we came downstairs. But he just keeps going. He’s the bionic goldfish.
When the inevitable happens at least I’m well qualified to do a toilet-side burial. I’ve done several. It’s just a slight variation on the church’s liturgy for burial at sea. Actually Ben and Zack have decided that since Clem has been a member of our family for so long he’s worthy of a backyard burial. And it does seem somehow more dignified and appropriate. You wouldn’t flush your beloved cat down the toilet – even if it wouldn’t wreak havoc on your plumbing.
So when the time comes we have a plan. In the meantime Clem’s hanging on and observing all that goes on in the house as he’s done since just after Christmas 2002. Oh the stories he could tell.