Freddy the fish has died.

Freddy, my office betta fish, died. Dag gonnit. He'd caught Ick, and I'd put some Ick medicine in there, and I think I overdosed him since it didn't seem to be getting better. Drat. Or maybe he would have died anyway - he was about 2 years old (some of them live to be 5 if you're like an expert animal empath and such, but I'm not that good).

My coworkers are encouraging me to get another one. One of them announced that we would have a naming ceremony for my new fish. They'd better not try to Christen it...

Anyway, dunno if I want to take care of a new one. It's kind of nice to just come to the office and not really have to feed a fish or worry about cleaning its bowl. Not sure if he really liked being in a bowl all that much anyway. Some things just belong in rice paddies, y'know? However, I miss saying "Good morning, my Fish! Here's your Breakfast!" every morning to the great amusement of JB, my Chinese office mate. (He and I are very easily amused).

I'll think about it.