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Shakespeare...

No, not the Bard. My goldfish.

Twelve years ago, a dear friend's daughter won a "feeder" goldfish at the local county fair in that dumb game where you spend $10 buying ping pong balls to toss into little bowls to win a ten cent goldfish. The ladies departed back to the mid-west a few days later leaving me with the critter.

I made a promise to the fish that if he lived for 6 months, I'd transfer him from his one gallon bowl to nicer digs. So then to a 3 gallon tank... 10 gallon tank... 20 gallon tank and 10 years later, Shakespeare continued to thrive, despite my occasional neglect. He was always glad to see me (Ooh, ooh.. here's the food guy!) Never bit. Never barked. Never shit on my rug. Grew to 4" of beautiful long tailed koi-like elegance.

He developed a lesion 3 years back that was treated by my daughter's boss (a specialty vet) and came home as good as new. He hung in until a week or so ago when he showed serious signs of distress. I'll bury him in the yard in a safe place.

PH
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