Last night when I got home from work RO kissed me weirdly, like a fish would. I asked him what that was about.

He said "I told Nigel (the fish) I'd kiss you goodbye for him."
"Why is Nigel kissing me goodbye? ... Did he die?"
"Yeah. He's dead."

Nigel had been struggling with the ick for about a week.

We drank a beer in honor of Nigel and talk about our memories of him. Like the time he ate the two guppies we gave him as tank mates.

Or the way he was so picky and prefered to eat meal worms over fish flakes.

Or the time he jumped out of the thank and fell into the sink. He was in the sink so long that he stuck to it. Vic had to pry him off.

Fish have stupid lives.