It has occurred to me that last week marked the one year anniversary of the tragic demise of my beloved fish, Mofo 2.0. In honor of my dearly departed fishy friend (who I owned for no less than nine months), please accept this mini entry I wrote a year ago upon his death:

“I am sorry to say Mofo 2.0 has kicked the bucket. I always thought fish floated on top when they died, you know, belly up, but he’s just lying there bent over at the bottom of his bowl. I’m going to have to perform a fish funeral flushing* at lunch. I just wish I had people here so we could build a pyre in the parking lot and recreate the bird funeral from the office.”

*It is apparently illegal to flush your beloved gilled friends down the toilet, so instead of being buried at sea (the sewer), hymns played (“I Will Remember You” on repeat) while Mofi’s body was wrapped in white linen (toilet paper) and settled into a lovely casket (Pizza Rolls box) and lowered into the ground (garbage).