The Pisces Horoscope

I was pouring skim milk in the kitchen when I realized that Marvin was dead.

Actually, I'd known at about 11am that Marvin had died, but it didn't really hit me until I was pouring that milk and looked over to see the once-red scales had turned to a disturbing gray, and the water was decidedly more cloudy. I'd forgotten to... dispose of Marvin, and after a few hours left in his fishbowl on the counter, his eyes were an eerie matt black.

Marvin and I had a strange start, a little over four years ago. The Petsmart in Columbia had a disturbing habit of selling Betta fish in these tiny cups. I wondered if the fish were forced to stay in the cups overnight, or worse, until they were sold. A few of the male fish had already died in their small confines, barely fitting belly up at the water's surface. In the hope to make a difference in one fish's life, I impulsively bought Marvin, and all the accessories, and returned to my dorm room.

A few weeks later I realized that maybe I'd bought a sick fish, since my beautiful dark red pet, with purple-fringed fins, refused to eat. Thus the name Marvin, of Starvin' Marvin. Later I realized that he was just uncomfortable eating with someone watching. From across the room at night, I watched his bowl on the windowsill, waiting for him swim to the surface and nibble on the pellets I'd dropped for him. Eventually he would go eat a piece, leaving the other 5 or 10 pellets to swell with water and drop to the bottom. I worried a lot about him in the beginning, but he proved himself to be a trooper.

Overall, he seemed like a happy fish, blowing bubbles, checking out the blue marbles in the bottom of the bowl. And some nights, he'd swim absolutely crazy tight circles in his bowl, like the donuts the boys in my high school would do in the parking lot over the summer, or to celebrate the rare occasions we won a football game.

The life expectancy of a Betta is about 2 years, but Marvin lasted an amazing 4 years with me. Just goes to show what some good Brita water will do, I guess. And maybe there is some stock in the argument of that caloric restriction story. I'm referring to that notion that cutting back 25% of the caloric intake can extend lifespan. If it's true, I suppose I'm in big trouble.

Still, despite his longevity, I was sad to flush him down the toilet. It seemed like one more link to my life in Missouri had been lost, and I think I can already feel myself letting go of that person I was before. As silly as it may seem to miss a fish, I feel the loss of my pet, my first pet who was my only company in my first apartment by myself three years ago. I'm just sad he didn't survive the trip. And now I have to tackle another new location and he won't be there to blow bubbles, or to distract me with worrying about whether he ate or not.

Well, cheers to you, Marvin, for all the good years.