It makes me so sad to watch little Elliot grow smaller and fade in color. He spends most of his day resting on the bottom of the fish bowl where he used to swim about.
Elliot is a smart fish. He would greet me each morning while I made my tea. He got visibly excited when I grabbed his food container, and he'd wait for me to drop a few flakes in. Now he can barely swim to the top to get his food.
It all started when we went on vacation in France. Elliot went to Daniel's house for two weeks. When he came back, Elliot looked sick. At first I accused Daniel of forgetting to feed him. But I knew better. Daniel is a very responsible young man, and he would not forget to feed the fish.
It was just that Elliot stopped eating so much. He's on his last fin, so to speak.
He's not even my fish. He's Peter's fish. And I don't even think he is Peter's fish, really. The fish belongs to some boy in his dorm from last year. How did he end up at our house, anyway?
It doesn't matter. I've grown to love little Elliot, and I'll be sad to see him go.
But this doesn't mean I want a new fish for Christmas.
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