Sashimi, the fish

Sashimi. He's a sad little guy.

Sad, not in nature, but in circumstance. Circumstances beyond his power to change.

I went to a pet store a long while ago because they had a deal on fish - buy 3 for the price of 1. I thought that Plava might like having some fish in her room. And she does, though I have asked myself on many occasions whether that justifies the sad state of our little Sashimi's life.

There were once three. Sashimi, Sushi, and Ed. Named by me in an attempt at humour, not taking into account the poor little lives I was now in charge of.

Sushi didn't last very long. The trip home from the store was more than he could take, and within a week he was being swept down the flusher - a fate that too many fish must meet. Ed and Sashimi seemed happy though, and lived on for another few months together.

Then Ed started swimming upside down, and it wasn't long before he too met his sewery death.

And then there was Sashimi. The little guy. He lives on. Though not in a clean, crisp tank. In a dingy, dirty one that I continually look at and think I should clean. Note the sad expression in his eyes.


And yet within moments of my taking the first of my photos of him, he started darting around, showing me his best tricks. What a guy.

I raise my glass to you, Sashimi.