R I P : HotWheels Henshaw 2005-2008

Our goldfish died. We started out 3 years ago with two little goldfish. One died quickly, but HotWheels lived a long and happy life.

I was the one who made sure he had a clean tank, but the boys were good about feeding HotWheels almost regularly. He stayed in their room, and they always included him when doing a family count - there were 10 of us (Mom, Dad, 2 boys, 4 hermit crabs, 1 dog and 1 fish.) So I was surprised when, as I was scooping him out of the tank, they asked with excitement "can we get a Chinese fighting fish?" No tears, no sadness, they were already thinking about what was next.

I put the little cup with HotWheels in it outside the house with the plan to hold a short burial ritual so my children could experience the proper way to show respect and gratitude for all creatures great and small. And then, um, I forgot about him.

A few days ago I pulled into the driveway and immediately smelled the worst smell I have ever smelled. Foul. Ross was stacking wood, knocked over the cup, and our dog pounced on and ate poor, decomposing HotWheels. The stench lasted for hours. We were gagging and the kids were happily telling anyone who would listen that our dog ate our dead fish.

Maybe kids and dogs are closer to the truth - what we regard as upsetting and traumatic, they understand as a natural progression of life. What was left of HotWheels wasn't really him. To his spirit, wherever it may be, I say "thank you for the joy you brought while you were here" and "jeez, I'm so sorry about the dog thing..."