R.I.P little orange one.

Our goldfish, Goldie, is no longer with us.

And it's all my fault.

On Wednesday night I noticed that her water was a getting murky. It had been two weeks since I had changed it last, so it was time.

As I was measuring the water temp while I filled up the bowl, I was wondering to myself, do I normally get the water to 74 degrees, 76 degrees or 78 degrees? I couldn't remember even though I had just changed her water two weeks ago.

I think to myself that 78 degrees will do just fine. (I later learn from my husband that we normally do between 68 - 72. Uh-oh!)

I put her back in the fresh water and watched as she darted around. She is always so excited to be in a bowl of fresh water that she normally darts around for a couple of hours.

But after about 1 minute of darting she stopped. She would occasionally float to the top for air and then back to the bottom where she would just sit.

Hmmmm, I thought, something isn't right.

I called Dan in for a consult. I had forgotten the chemicals you are supposed to put in after you replace the water so we quickly put those in.

But that didn't help.

We went to bed expecting the worst but she was still alive the next morning. She was barely moving though so I knew she wasn't long for this world.

After the kids woke up I told them that Goldie was probably about to die. Peter got mad at me for cleaning the bowl and for causing it. Sarah didn't seem too concerned one way or the other.

And sure enough, later on that afternoon, she was gone.

Sarah got excited and asked if "we could flush it?!" (She's just like me in this respect. She doesn't get attached to things very easily.)

Peter got upset at this idea and wanted to know if we could bury it. (He's exactly like Dan. He wants to keep anything he's every owned as nearby as possible.)

They bickered for a bit but when my husband got home he decided that Goldie would be great fertilizer for the garden so that's where she is resting right now.

And no, there was no little shoe-box coffin. There was no eloquent eulogy spoken as she was being placed beneath the tomato plants. And no, there were no tears, just requests for another fish or a dog from the shelter.

Looks like we will be heading back to Wal-Mart this weekend for another 37 cent fish.

And my husband will be in charge of any and all water changes because I can't have the blood of another goldfish on my hands!