My beta fish, Little Dude, died this morning.
I found him floating in his bowl
wrapped in a shroud of blue fantail
caught between two plastic green pieces
of fake seaweed - I tapped on the bowl,
but I knew he was a goner.
I had him for almost two years.
We played BIG WORM each morning,
a game I liked to think he enjoyed -
I'd wiggle my finger and he would chase it,
pushing his chubby little body to great speeds
in pursuit of the worm that always got away.
Sometimes, we would hone his warrior skills.
I would put a mirror against his bowl
and watch him swell up twice his size;
preparing for battle, Little Dude swam in dizzy circles
and then, BOP! A head-butt right into the glass -
There! Take THAT you damned blue devil!
Little Dude was the only fish of mine ever
to survive two cat attacks and a drop down the drain.
For two months he swam with half a tail
and a backside with no scales - I kept the mirror
in my drawer so he wouldn’t feel humiliated,
and I let him nip my fingertip when we played WORM.
I know he was just a $4.95 Wal*Mart special,
but he had that 'certain something' -
Little Dude was flushed at 6:43 a.m with love.
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