I made her work for it. For months. And so we got a fish. A fish that she promptly decided was boring, and somehow ended up on my kitchen countertop with Kenny and I feeding it.
I hated that stupid fish. I tried to kill it. I wouldn't feed it for weeks, but there it would be wagging it's little fishy tail, swimming happy little fishy circles. Not dead.
When we moved over two years later, the fish travelled in the cup holder of the u-haul in a plastic cup. I thought for sure that would be the death of the fish. But no. Fishy plopped happily into it's tank on it's new perch in the new kitchen. Swim, swim, swim.
Then Jill decided the fish was cool. She cleaned it's tank. She started feeding it when she remembered. She would talk to the fish. She drew pictures for the fish. Fish became cool.
Until yesterday morning.
"Jill did you remember to feed your fish," Kenny asked.
Jill jumped up from the couch where she sat watching TV ten minutes before we left for school. Fish food in hand, Jill lifted the lid from the tank....
"MY FISH IS DEAD!"
I looked to Kenny, waiting for him to say it was just sitting still. But instead, he nodded his head, slowly, solemnly.
The fish was dead.
RIP Veda the Beta.
You lived a good, long fishy life. I am sorry they gave you a girl name, even though you were a boy. Really it was your fault, because you were pink and purple. And those were girl colors. Also, forgive Emmi for tormenting you with Dino. Emmi says she hopes you are playing with Chance-y Boy. And Papa. In our brown car which isn't dead, but sold. Try telling her that, though. All of which she insists are in heaven.