Today, after “Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me” we decided to move out into the living room to finish watching our Red Box movies from last night. I was in the bedroom editing some tags on photos of Elias‘ fourth birthday party yesterday, when Sparklepants called me into the kitchen, crying.

When we lost Pas, we’d only had him a few months. He wasn’t our baby. He didn’t snarl at us or puff up at us when we walked past his bowl. Paul Anka had personality, he was our moody teenager, listening to the Cure in the basement. He used to eat out of Sparklepants’ fingers. And now he’s gone.

When Pas died, I found him. I called Sparklepants at work to warn her. I picked him up in the net and flushed him down the toilet and we said goodbye. Today I couldn’t even look at his bowl. I kept thinking “sometimes he’s really emo and he refuses to move until you move his bowl or poke at him. Maybe he’s pretending.”

He wasn’t pretending this time.

Goodbye, Paul Anka. You were the best fish, and we loved you every day of the one year and four months that you sat on our kitchen counter. You’re irreplaceable. We’ll miss you.