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R.I.P.
Jim was my beta fish, and he died today around 3 p.m. ET. He was with me for about a year and a half.
Jim soldiered on in predicaments where many other fish would have thrown in the towel: being left with inadequate food provisions when I went on vacation, suffering a five-hour ride in the passenger seat of a U-Haul headed from New York to Washington, having bits of my two-year-old nephew's lunch discarded into his bowl. He even graciously let me call him Jim, despite a distinct possibility that he is female.
I used to believe that since I wasn't allowed to have a dog as a child, I missed out on a fundamental pet experience. But the upside is, I have been able to truly appreciate what I *have* had, which is fish. Jim had his feisty, argumentative side, and his more reflective side, and he was good with kids. That meant a lot.
Jim had been gimpy for awhile, so his death did not come as a surprise. He fought bravely through the final hours of his illness before finally coming to rest at the bottom of his bowl, nose buried in the rocks. I appreciate the support that I have received. The memorial will take place tomorrow at the intersection of Tuckerman Lane and Seven Locks Road. Unless the creek is frozen.
January 22, 2003