I had been home for about five minutes and Goobs came up to me and said..."Tom is dead, Daddy." He then pointed to the small aquarium that houses two (now one) goldfish. Tom and Jerry had been around for two months. A store named "Petland" opened up in the shopping center right near our place. We took Goobs and the Bun there and got them fish. J and I figured(okay...to be totally honest, this was J that did the figuring. I was along for the ride) it was time to get them a pet, but something low key that wouldn't leave fur or hair all over. Fish were the perfect solution, so we tromped over to Petland, bought some fish and an aquarium, put it together, and voilla (Okay...I'm not French, so If my French spelling sucks...I'm okay with it), we had Goldfish..."Just Add Water..." and boom, we were pet owners. We originally had four fish, but lost two via a tank cleaning accident by J and Goobs. We were down to two until today.
I got a plastic picnic cup, scooped him out and took him to the bathroom. I suggested a viking funeral to J. The goldfish viking funeral would entail us making a paper boat, putting Tom in it, setting it on fire, and then flushing it. I thought it was a perfect way for Tom to enter goldfish Valhalla. J poo pooed my idea of the viking funeral, so we had to go with the simple, generic goldfish funeral in the bathroom.
I let Goobs take the casket (the plastic cup) with Tom in it into the bathroom. He did feed Tom every day and talked to him too, so it was only appropriate that Goobs was the lone pallbearer. He solemnly walked into the bathroom and dumped Tom into the bowl. I asked him if he wanted to say a few words before Tom was flushed. Goobs shook his head up and down and then said..."Bye Buddy" and then flushed him down. He then skipped out of the bathroom to watch Curious George. That was the extent of his mourning.
When the other goldfish, Jerry, expires, we'll do it again. I think we'll wait for a while before we get a kitten or a puppy.