This week, Lucky the fish died. Many of you might wonder why the death of a small feeder feed is worthy of a little space on the Internet. I'd like to remind those people that the Internet is full of really, really stupid stuff. Lucky also wasn't your typical fish.
Lucky has lived in our little fish tank for well over four years. He outlived the other nine feeder fish who entered the tank with him. They were all consumed by Bert and Ernie, the axolotls, within two days. A week later, this one fish was still there; it was at this point we gave him the name Lucky. Growing attached to a feeder fish seemed rather silly, given that he was destined to be gobbed up, but we named him nonetheless. He lived in the tank, dodging Bert and Ernie for months, and eventually outlived both of them.
He lived on his own for a while, and then was joined by two pearl scale goldfish. He liked the fact that they didn't once try to eat him. He seemed to enjoy that he outlived them too.
He lived alone for another while, and then was joined by a horde of others. He was interested in the blackmoores, as was Genghis the cat. He also liked the two new pearlscales: Wilbur and Whisky-Lemonade-Sunshine (named by Debs). He really liked the chinese algae eaters, Hoover and Vax. Vax, in particular, was his best friend. It was like the old cartoons with the big bulldog and the annoying, yappy little terrier. Lucky would spend hours circling Vax, while Vax angrily defended his little territory.
The blackmoores died without even being named, and Vax eventually beat Hoover and both pearlscales to death. Vax was a lot more like the bulldog than we imagined. Lucky continued to hang around him, avoiding similar punishment. Soon enough, Vax died, most likely because there was no longer anyone to beat up.
Lucky continued on alone again. The tank was gifted with a number of algae-eatinig snails. Many of these too, died along the way. With the hundred of tiny snails, it is difficult to count them.
And so it came to this week, during the heat and humidity, that Lucky finally gave up his little frantic swimming. I buried him outside under some flowers, and smiled; he managed to survive those intended to eat him, survive those intended to be his companions, and live out a long life, all without once being eaten.