RIP Jack

When I wake up every morning...and come down the stairs, Jack is always sitting in his tank, demanding his breakfast. He always told me off in his fishy way. And I would laugh at him, and then tell my friends that my fish had a dirty mouth.

I can't do that anymore. Not in the present tense anyway...I'd tell them: "My fish Jack had a dirty mouth."

Jack is gone. And now my mornings just aren't as special anymore. 

Jack died yesterday. I came home from church to find him on his side, trying to get upright again. I fed him, and he tried to get the food, but it gave up and just floated to the top. He lived for another hour or so...I watched him die.

Some people may be like 'geez, it was a fish.' But my fish are special to me. Like a dog or a cat would be. Even right now, I'm crying about him. Jack lived a good life, I know that much. He lived almost 3 years. He was always there, he was beside me while I wrote the first words of my first novel. And even though my other fish died...Jack was always there.

So when I came down stairs this morning, and I looked in my tank. I cried. I didn't see Jack moving or anything. He's still in there...I don't have the courage to remove him. And I keep staring at that almost full container of fish food...I don't know what I'm going to do with it now...I could get another fish. But they'd all die of anyway...Jack was the only one who was able to take my not so clean way of keeping him. 

But maybe someday, when I get to Heaven, I'll be able to see my fishy again! <3

I love you Jack!

-Madison