Dorothy

On Saturday, my wife and daughter went to the large conglomerate pet-arama and got a fish... and a tank... and all the accoutrements. My wonderful daughter named it Dorothy, after her last fish named Dorothy. Of the $15+, the fish cost twenty-nine cents.

On Monday, Dorothy died. Actually, the original Dorothy died a little less than a year ago, but the replacement Dorothy died on Monday. My daughter and I excitedly rushed up-stairs to her bedroom to feed it and as she stepped up to take a look, we both noticed that Dorothy was swimming the side stroke, only it wasn't swimming. As I began my attempt to soften the blow, my daughter's waterworks began. Through the tears, she inquired why Dorothy's tail was bent (gravity and lack of life would be my guess) and what happened to her face (frozen in place as she kicked the bucket I'd think). Then the real questions began.


   "What?!?!" - "Honey, I think Dorothy died."
   "Did Dorothy die?!?! - "Yeah honey, I think Dorothy died."
   "Why did Dorothy die?!?! - "Honey, I think she just died."
   "I think she's swimming?!" - "No honey, she's not."
   "But she's moving!!" - "Baby, it's because we're moving the bowl, see..."
   "Why did Dorothy die!?!?" (she was obviously disinterested in the physics lesson) - "I think she was sick honey, it wasn't anything you did."
   "Maybe we shouldn't have fed her five!" (pellets of food) - "No honey, you did fine!"
   "Do all fish die?!?" - "Yes honey, God doesn't make anything to last forever, especially gold fish."
"Why?" - "Because, honey, that's how it is." (lame, I know, but it's the best I could do)
   "Do cats die!?!?" - "Yes baby, but probably not for a while."
   "Why!?" - "Honey, just because."
   "But I love Dorothy, I didn't want her to die!" - "I know baby"
   "I love Stripey and Momma Kitty and Furball!" - "I know honey. And that feeling you have, love, is a great thing. It just hurts right now because it's mixed with sad."
   "Will we die!?!?" - "..." (insert sound of heart breaking here) "Someday honey, but not anytime soon."
   "Why!?" - "Well, um, honey, um, God makes some things to last a short time, and other things to last a long time. And I don't want you to worry about that OK?" (actually, as much as I didn't want her to worry about that, I was equally ill-prepared to talk about it.)
   "Will Dorothy go to heaven!?" - "Well honey, heaven is only for people."
   "Why!?" - "God made heaven for people."
   "Why?" - "He just did honey."
   "Where will Dorothy go!?" - "Um, well, Dorothy, well, we can't keep her body anymore..."
   "Why!?" - "Honey, Dorothy died and we can't keep her body, so I'm going to have to take care of it."
   "Why!?" - "We don't keep dead things in our room." (It was the best I could do)
   "Where will she go?" - (my wife saved me on this one) "She'll go where fish go when they die."
   "Where!?" - (both of us) "Fish heaven."
   "Oh." - "Let's go down and you can read with Mommy."
   "Will her tail go? Will her eyes and fins go!?!?" - "No honey, just what's inside Dorothy, her soul"

Obviously, I'm realizing at this point that I'm spiraling out of control. My answers contradict what I'll teach her about life and death when she's 10 or 15. I'm just trying to settle her down, keep from out-and-out lying to her, and get myself out of the situation as quickly as I can, without scaring her for life. She had other ideas.


   "Can we keep her body!? Why is her face like that!? Why is her tail like that!?" - "No honey, we can't keep her body. I'm going to take care of her body."
   "Can I get another Dorothy!??" - "Sure!" (said with a father's hope of the conversation's end)
   "What are you going to do with Dorothy's body!?" - "Well honey, what we usually do is put her in the potty and flush her down the drain." (uh oh)
   "Why?!?!?" - "That's just what we do honey. Let's go down and you can read with Mommy."
   "But I love Dorothy! I didn't want her to die!" - "We know honey."

After a few minutes and many tears, she settled down and was able to allow herself to read with my wife on the couch. Thinking this was my best chance, I snuck back up stairs, grabbed the bowl, netted out Dorothy's corpse, plopped her in the toilet and hit the handle. As the sound of the flush began to subside, it was quickly replaced with the pounding of little feet up the stairs. I knew I was in trouble.


   "Did you flush Dorothy? Why did you flush Dorothy?!?" - "Honey, I told you I had to do that? Dorothy doesn't need her body anymore."
   "Is heaven down there!?" - "No honey (chuckling), it's not. It's (laughing) just where we send fish. (tears) Honey, I don't want you to worry."
   "Will my poop and pee hit Dorothy?" - "No honey (laughing)."

Several more minutes go by and she finally begins to either understand and accept or give up trying. Peace returned to our home, as tenuous as it was. After a deep breath and sigh of relief, I realized just how smart my daughter is, how hard it is to parent well, and how important a fish can be to a beautiful little girl. It was a big lesson to learn, and she taught me more that I could have ever hoped.

On Tuesday, my daughter and wife went to a local, smaller and better pet store. $5 later, my daughter carried a small plastic bag out of the story with a gold fish inside.

She named it Dorothy.