So now I'm faced with a contaminated tank and three of Rojo's pets patrolling the waters. I'm worried about how I should introduce the new-comer so I turned to the internet for answers and became sickened by the number of reckless Betta owners that have absolutely no clue. "I've had my Betta for a year, should I change the water?... I've heard Betta's can survive out of water for up to 7 hours, how long should I let my 4 year old play with it in our sandpit? It's St Patty's Day soon, can the water green?" and so on. Has civilization gone mad? Is the second coming this weekend? My misery is in a tailspin.
I showed up at Fish 4 U this afternoon in a haze. I remember waving to the Betta Girl and saying something about not connecting with any of the new arrivals. As always the F4U staff were wonderful. The BettaGirl tested my water sample and said it was fine and suggested that maybe the three cloud fish that I gave Rojo as pets may have had something to do with his passing. She was very sensitive. I feel like Lenny from "Of Mice and Men" where he smothers his rabbits with love and enthusiasm.
I'm having a wake for Rojo this Sunday where I'll bury him in the garden on the rooftop patio of my apartment building. Anyone can come, just bring your own food because I'm not hungry.
I'm reminded of the film Garden State where Natalie Portman plays Sam who has her own pet cemetery. "Goodbye Jelly," she says, burying a hamster "I hope you liked me." I mourn because Rojo was more than my pet, he was my muse.
Thank you to everyone who offered their condolences.
Thursday 6 March 2008
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The Betta Song Book (funeral laments)
Whiskey Lullabye to Rojo
(John Randall/Bill Anderson....Whiskey Lullabye)
His life went out like the frozen end of a brine shrimp.
He broke her heart: She might spend her whole life trying to forget.
We watched her drink his pain away, a little at a time,
But she never could get drunk enough to get Rojo off her mind,
Until the day on the rooftop,
Mira and Diablo, and the rest of the mourners.
They all put bottles to their lips and pulled the trigger.
And finally drank away Rojo's memory.
Life is short, but this time it was bigger,
Than the strength we had to get up off our knees.
Mira had found him with his face down in the bubbles,
With a note on the aquarium glass that said: "I'll love Mira till I die."
Then we buried him atop The Charleston,
As angels sung a whiskey lullaby.
La la Ro Ro Ro Rojo
La la Ro Ro Ro Rojo
La la Ro Ro Ro Rojo.
The rumors flew, but nobody knew how much she blamed herself
And that fishy lady at Fish 4 U.
For days and days, she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath.
She finally drank her pain away, a little at a time.
But she never could get drunk enough to get Rojo off her mind.
Until the day on the roof
She put that bottle to her lips and pulled her hair back.
And finally drank away his memory.
Life is short, but this time it wasn't bigger,
Than the strength she had to get up off her knees.
We found her happy face again down at The Bee,
Clinging to a picture of Rojo and his favorite brew.
We toasted Rojo, and Mira, beneath the patio canopy,
While Dave and Dave sang a whiskey lullaby.
La la Ro Ro Ro Rojo
La la Ro Ro Ro Rojo
La la Ro Ro Ro Rojo.
Rojo, Rojo, la la la la la la Rojo!
Mister Kiss Kiss Bang Bang
From The Betta Poem Book
To a Betta
Robert Burns, and dave
On Turning Rojo up in his Nest with the Bubbles
Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie,
O what a panic's in thy gills!
Thou need na start awa swim hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee
Wi' murd'ring pattle!
I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Has broken nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor earth-born companion,
An' fellow-mortal...Mira!
I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor betta, thou maun live!
A daimen-icker in a thrave
'S a sma' request:
I'll get a blessin' wi' the wave,
And never miss't!
Thy wee bit nestie, too, in ruin!
Its silly gravel, and filter strewin':
And naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage sea green!
An' bleak March's winds ensuin'
Bait snell an' keen!
Thou saw the aquarium laid bare and waste
An' weary winter goin' fast,
An' Diablo here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till, crash! those cruel cloud fish
Out thro' thy cell.
That wee bit heap o' smut an' stibble
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou's turned out, for a' thy trouble,
But bowl or hald,
To thole Fish 4 U's sleety dribble
An' cranreuch cauld!
But, Betta, thou art no thy lame
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o' bettas an' Mira
Gang aft a-gley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For Mira's promised joy.
Still thou art blest, compared wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But, oh! I backward cast my e'e
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!
To a Betta
Robert Burns, and dave, In Tribute To A Great Fish
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