When I was younger, I wanted a pet. Any kind of pet, that I could call mine and mine alone. My parents had other ideas though. Snakes and turtles needed a 'license', rabbits and rats were vermin, and the cat would traumatise them, we already had a cat so i couldn't get one, I couldn't get a dog.
Eventually I decided I wanted a bird. My parents didn't neccessarily agree - they think keeping birds in cages is a little cruel, and I have to say I now kind of agree - but I was determined. I started saving my money, and looking at birds and cages in the pet shop.
Somewhere along the line, that bird turned into fish, and I spent the money I had saved on a tank, all the equipment needed and of course, the fish themselves. I had several fish at several different times, with different levels of emotional attachments to them. Eventually, after all the fish, and their replacements and their replacement's replacements had died, I gave up and the tank was retired to the cupboard.
At the beginning of last year, I got a sudden urge to get some more fish. I don't know why, and it'd been years since my last fish, but I dug out the tank, set it up, and evenually ended up with three gold and white goldfish. I was determined to give them perfect names, and as such, I ended up not naming them until about 6 months after I got them - Carlos, Lumen and Danish, all names with significant 'in-joke' backgrounds. In early August this year, the three of them were joined by Beatrice, a mottley gold, black, brown and white fish that I gave my sister for her birthday.
Last night, I walked into my room to find Lumen lying on the floor of the tank, moving pathetically.
It was always a fear of mine, especially recently that I would come home from holiday, or even just walk into my room to find one or more of them dead. Seeing Lumen look so unhealthy was quite hard for me to see, and it made me realise what an emotional attatchment I had formed with those fish over the past almost two years.
I don't know why, but my first reaction was to tell somebody. I think I thought that would make it less of a shock when she died, so I went over to my sister's room and told her 'I don't think Lumen is very healthy'. She came in with me to have a look, and almost instantly I wanted her to leave. As soon as she did, I burst into tears.
I think the worst par was knowing that she was dying, that I would probably wake up in the morning to find that she was dead, and knowing that I didn't know what to do about it. I knew she was dying, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
This morning I woke up to find that I thought my fears were right - Lumen was no longer moving. Unsure what to do, I called my dad, who told me to put her in a seperate jar, so that we could get rid of her when he got home. However, when I went to lift her of the tank floor and into the jar, she started moving again.
So now I have a fish that is still dying, and I still don't know how to stop her. I almost wish she was dead, because then I wouldn't have to helplessly watch her die. I don't know if she is in pain, we don't have the neccessary things to euthanize her painlessly (and I don't think I could do it by myself).
I don't know why I'm writing this down. I don't really want other people to read it, but at the same time, I need to have it written down; it feels like I'm doing something productive rather than sitting around crying and watching her helplessly, and I feel like it's a good way to remember her.
I want nothing more than to go into my room and find her either swimming around, completely healthy, or no longer moving at all. I suspect I know which one will happen.
