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shiny objects

Saturday, July 09, 2005


I had to do it. I couldn't let her suffer.

Pixie came back from the fish-sitter in a horrible state. The sitter had grossly overfed her. Her water was opaque with rancid food and excrament. Pixie herself appeared nearly dead - listless, filmy, and drab. Her stomach was so bloated, I feared she would rupture at any moment. With tears in my eyes, I ran to the bathroom and changed the water in her tank. But I was too late.

The horrible water conditions had given her a bacterial infection called dropsy. Dropsy is very difficult to treat, especially in its later stages. Fluid and pus cause the fish's abdomen to swell until the fish either bursts or starves to death. If the fish expands to the point that its scales stand out like a pine-cone, it has fallen beyond recovery and should be euthanized.

I could not save Pixie. The medicine I bought had no effect but to prolong her agony. I knew she was a goner the minute I saw her. But I tried anyway. Selfishly, I tried. I didn't want to lose her. She was my friend. I thought maybe I could save her. I thought that maybe I could undo my reckless decision to leave her in the hands of my housemates. DAMN THE EYES OF BOTH OF THEM.

I put her in the freezer. I put her in the freezer in a cup of water and let her go slowly off to sleep. She needed peace. I couldn't watch her in pain anymore, struggling against her painfully engorged belly.

I love you, Pixie. Rest well.


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