Alas Poor Chanel, We Barely Knew Ye....

Our fish just died. I'm not exactly sure how to break it to my son. He is currently away at school and it has fallen to us to take care of Chanel, the fish, (named after Coco Chanel the famous designer, although as far as I can tell the fish was not a fan of Coco's and was pretty much naked for most of it's life).

Chanel is one of a long line of fish in our lives. Being an apartment family, there was that NO PETS rule. Although when you have a 4 year old with big brown eyes begging you for a puppy, you will resort to just about anything to stop the waterworks, even if it's bargaining down to a fish.

Our first fish was named Harry Brucato. He was won at one of those Fireman Fairs in Northport, NY and I figured, fool that I was, he wouldn't last the ride home. He lasted 4 years. Harry was responsible for 3 tanks, several bags of gravel, all kinds of "keep your tank clear and clean" potions and lotions, a filter thing that we never got the hang of, an opening and closing treasure chest (that sadly was the cause of Harry's demise) and a rubber skeleton.

Harry, I believe got his tail caught in the open  and closing of the treasure chest and was never quite right after that.

After Harry came a succession of poor replacements until Shakespere. I had an attachment to Shakespere. The son was going through his theater phase and placed the fish on a faux stone pedestal in his room.

The fish would try and put on airs, pretending to be more than the meager feeder fish variety it was, but it had heart, I will give it that. I took Shakespere's passing rather hard. I believe the plague got him.

That brings us to Chanel. Having decided to be a fashion designer, of course the son decides to name the fish, one of those japanese fighter fish, after his favorite designer. For a while, the fish was his entire universe. Then, as these things go, Chanel and I became best buds. Then Southern Man decided he wanted a pet: a cat. Enter Gracie the cat. Now this began the end for Chanel.

Once the ruler of the kitchen, the Cinderella fish spent most of her time dialing 911. Gracie tried everything to turn Chanel into an appetizer but we managed to foil her plan and poor Chanel's place of honor went from the countertop to the top of the pantry. I think she went a little stir crazy after that. I would find the occasional hate mail. I looked past it.

Over the past few months, I sensed Chanel gave up her zest for life. There was the look in her eye, the occasional cough, the handing out of her possesions, the dressing in polyester. It's sad. I spent everyday with her but I knew so little about her. Her favorite color, her friends, her family.

And what do we tell the son when he gets home from school? We decided to come up with some planned scenarios:

#1 Chanel is on vacation--- which probably won't work because where would a 1.5 inch fish tethered to a tank go in the middle of winter without a driver's license?

#2 Chanel had a heart attack and couldn't be revived because you can't get those electric paddles in the water safely (okay, a stupid concept but Southern Man and I laughed)

#3 Chanel drowned (We figured this one would have the son confused for a while. I know Southern Man left the room a little perplexed)

Finally, I decided to use an idea from my brother who is also a comedian. He reminded me that when we lost our family dog, she mysteriously disappeared to a lush farm in upstate New York.

So when our son asks where the fish went, we are going with the farm upstate. That's where, after Chanel nearly drowned and had a minor heart attack, the doctor suggested she take a long (permanent) vacation.

Of course, he could just read this blog.