Of Dead Pets and Lying
Our goldfish, Melon, died last night.
Our 6-year-old had “earned” this goldfish for not crying when she had to switch schools last year. We moved from New York City to Connecticut in May of last year, and so she had to finish out kindergarten at a new school with children who’d been together for months. I knew it would be difficult. She is a notorious crier.
Our move was stressful, and coming as it did on the heels of the sudden deaths of both my mother-in-law and my father, I knew I couldn’t handle two weeks of prying the fingers of my sobbing child off my pants leg. So, I did what all desperate parents do in times of crisis: I bribed her.
If she didn’t cry, I promised, she’d get a goldfish.
My daughter used every ounce of the 36 pounds on her teeny-tiny frame to ward off tears. She faked smiles with pools in her eyes. She gave herself red splotches on the face and quivered with determination. But she didn’t – didn’t! – cry.
As it happened, it took us 8 months to follow through on the promise of the goldfish. A few Sundays ago, my husband took her to the new fish store in town. In a sea of goldfish, she chose the ostentatiously HUGE one. I thought (knew?) this was a bad sign.
Our daughter arrived home, saturated with joy, carrying her plastic bag like it was a new baby.
A few names were tossed about. I rejected “Rainbow” and “Goldie” outright. Too girly. Too clichéd. She then wanted to name her “Mary,” since she’d recently mastered the “Hail Mary” prayer. I was a little reluctant – would that have been blasphemous? – but okayed it. My daughter changed it to “Melon” after seeing a Honeydew melon, cut open, on our kitchen table.
Melon struggled from the get-go. We didn’t have a filter. We got suckered into buying fluorescent gravel for the bottom of the tank. Long story short, Melon (we think) got ammonia poisoning and then went into shock. Her final hours were brutal.
She swam backward. Eyed us pleadingly. Waved her fins listlessly. Then, at about noon yesterday, she lay on the bottom of the tank on her side. My husband and I had surreptitious and panicked chats in the kitchen. We searched obsessively on the Internet, changing tabs quickly to avoid our children seeing photos of cancerous goldfish.
Melon’s breathing became labored.
“We have to get rid of her!” I whispered. “This is too hard to watch!”
“Do you want me to EXECUTE her?” my husband asked incredulously.
Well, no. But we had to get out of the house. I took the 6-year-old to get the car serviced. My husband texted me: “Melon’s struggling. I don’t think she’s going to make it.”
“Can’t she even hang on until we get home? DO SOMETHING!” I typed back, angling the cell phone away from my daughter.
All through dinner, Melon lay on the bottom of the tank. Her gills lurched in erratic gasps; bubbles collected on her fins.
“What’s wrong with Melon?” our daughter asked, eyebrows furrowed.
The lies flowed forth. They were scattershot:
She’s resting.
She was probably sick when we got her.
She’s happy to be here instead of in an impersonal pet store. She’s spending her final hours with her favorite people (!).
Maybe God wants Melon.
Clara cried and cried. We all knew the end was near. Her shoulders slumped. She stood up on the stool and waved goodbye before going upstairs to brush her teeth. She held her plastic rosary beads tight at bedtime.
At about 8 p.m., shortly after our daughter fell asleep, Melon’s body sort of … arched upward. The gill-gasps no longer came. She was gone.
My husband and I discussed end-of-life plans. Burial? The backyard is covered in snow. The sewer? I think, bless her heart, Melon qualifies as waste. Wouldn’t want to get a fine.
So, my husband, brave fellow that he is, did a ceremonial flush.
This morning was filled with more lies.
“Daddy took her to the pond across the street and put her in there.”
This afternoon, walking along the pond, Clara stared longingly into the pond. “Bye, Melon,” she said plaintively. Then, while hanging over the bridge and inspecting the water closely, “Where, exactly, did you put her?”
I felt God’s wrath.
Any theologians out there? I’m sorry for my lies, on principle. But they worked out exactly as I wanted them to, so I guess that doesn’t qualify as real sorry.
Aren’t “gold” lies better than white lies?
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Comments :
May '10
Re: Of Dead Pets and Lying
Yesterday we tried to figure out the lying dynamic, too.
Re: Of Dead Pets and Lying
Yes, pets and lying (more recently) have been persistent themes lately.
Jul '10
Re: Of Dead Pets and Lying
You should have told the kid that you sent the goldfish to a nice farm, where he could frolic in the fields and chase rabbits.
Re: Of Dead Pets and Lying
Holy cow I've never wanted to cry over a dead goldfish before! What a great writer you are!
Don't underestimate the steeliness of youth. We had a dog die a few years back (suicide, actually). The kids were over it in a day. Another, nameless member of our household mourned for months and never really got over it.
Sep '10
Re: Of Dead Pets and Lying
I try my best not to lie to my kids. Why make stuff up about ponds when there is a perfectly acceptable formula - and you are religious people! The fish is dead, but Melon is in Heaven now. You put the goldfish in a little box and you bury it it the back yard with a little ceremony. You let your little girl cry and then you get another one at the pet store.
Re: Of Dead Pets and Lying
Oh I almost forgot - a little made up story to protect your kids isn't a bad thing, no matter what Immanuel Kant says.
Note too that Kant had no kids.
Re: Of Dead Pets and Lying
Don't lie to your kids, but tell them Melon went to Heaven? Either goldfish in Heaven is a lie too or I don't know what religion you have.
Nov '10
Re: Of Dead Pets and Lying
Immanuel Kan't; but you can!
Feb '11
Re: Of Dead Pets and Lying
The Internet lasts forever. Some day - probably sooner than you'd think - Clara will google her own name and read this story. Where you tell the whole world how you fooled her.
Good luck with that!
Re: Of Dead Pets and Lying
Israel P.: The Internet lasts forever. Some day - probably sooner than you'd think - Clara will google her own name and read this story. Where you tell the whole world how you fooled her.
Good luck with that! · Feb 24 at 2:13pm
Perhaps, but my father wrote all the time about his family, and we got a great kick out of the stories. They are our treasures today. I don't think she'll be too mad. We'll see.
Re: Of Dead Pets and Lying
Well, true. But it was the flushing that we lied about. Burying the fish would have been near impossible -- our back yard is covered in over a foot of snow. I suppose we could have packed her in ice in the freezer and waited until spring ... but that seemed a little dramatic. We also felt a little bad about tying the goldfish to heaven, the place where she believes her beloved grandparents live. It just feels a little ... odd ... to say they're all in the same place.
Jan '11
Re: Of Dead Pets and Lying
Poor Whiskers, our long departed gerbil. When Whiskers was getting older and close to that time, I asked my daughter if she wanted to be told when Whiskers died, or whether I should just sneak another one in. She opted for the latter. The inevitable happened while my daughter was with her mom - so Whiskers II arrived in the company of Lionel. She knew it was a different gerbil, I knew that she knew, she knew that I knew that she knew, but we both played out the charade for at least a year (until one time she accidentally called him Whiskers II). It was actually painless. Right? Wrong? It worked; for both of us.
Sep '10
Re: Of Dead Pets and Lying
Tommy De Seno
Don't lie to your kids, but tell them Melon went to Heaven? Either goldfish in Heaven is a lie too or I don't know what religion you have. · Feb 24 at 2:00pm
Telling your kid the goldfish is in heaven is different than saying, Daddy put the fish in a pond across the street, which is wholly untrue. Notice how the kid makes her parents lie serially now by asking innocent questions. Heaven is a place that people can believe in so it isn't a "lie" it is a belief, and children understand the difference. I don't believe goldfish go to heaven myself but I can't prove they don't.
Dec '10
Re: Of Dead Pets and Lying
The last pet we lost was Sunchip, the lop-eared rabbit. She was given to my oldest daughter when she was in high school and my youngest had inherited her when the oldest one went to college. My youngest is now about the age the oldest was when she got Sunchip.
She'd had previous illnesses like head-tilt (a sign of a dangerous brain infection) and we'd nursed her through them. That last evening, my daughter took Sunchip on her lap to pet her and noticed that she'd soiled herself -- a bad sign in rabbits, who are generally fastidious self-groomers. I planned to call the vet in the morning, but only a short time after setting her down, my daughter noticed Sunchip wasn't breathing.
The next morning, I stayed home from work and my wife, my daughter and I buried the bunny under the tree next to where we'd buried our cat Delilah some years before. My youngest was heartbroken, and there were no lies to tell to soften the blow -- I wish there were.
Sep '10
Re: Of Dead Pets and Lying
Ursula Hennessey
Well, true. But it was the flushing that we lied about. Burying the fish would have been near impossible -- our back yard is covered in over a foot of snow. I suppose we could have packed her in ice in the freezer and waited until spring ... but that seemed a little dramatic. We also felt a little bad about tying the goldfish to heaven, the place where she believes her beloved grandparents live. It just feels a little ... odd ... to say they're all in the same place. · Feb 24 at 2:32pm
OK we are talking about a dead goldfish here and a six year old. It is a sweet story. Hope things work out...
Dec '10
Re: Of Dead Pets and Lying
Worked for Lassie, too.
Dec '10
Re: Of Dead Pets and Lying
The best illustration of the value of white lies in softening the blow of death is in the old joke, "the cat's on the roof."
Re: Of Dead Pets and Lying
Franco
Ursula Hennessey
Well, true. But it was the flushing that we lied about. Burying the fish would have been near impossible -- our back yard is covered in over a foot of snow. I suppose we could have packed her in ice in the freezer and waited until spring ... but that seemed a little dramatic. We also felt a little bad about tying the goldfish to heaven, the place where she believes her beloved grandparents live. It just feels a little ... odd ... to say they're all in the same place.
OK we are talking about a dead goldfish here and a six year old. It is a sweet story. Hope things work out...
Thanks, Franco.
May '10
Re: Of Dead Pets and Lying
I find it difficult enough to explain away the missing babysitters stacked in the crawlspace (THEY NEVER LISTEN!). Still, you weren't lying when you said God wants Melon. I mean, who wouldn't?
And if you need a use for that big, honking bowl, I suggest a small turtle. Call him Tibby. Where is Mike Nelson in the Ricochet constellation, anyway?
Jan '11
Re: Of Dead Pets and Lying
Stuart Creque #21 - what? Oh no!!!! Nobody told me!!