I was at my office last night when I received an email from my husband--subject line: Sad evening here. I, of course, became worried and anxious. It was likely Sadie who was sad, and I wasn't there to put her to bed, to read her a book, and to give her a cuddle.
I then read the email.
With everything else going on in our life lately Sadie's goldfish has taken a back seat. Yes, he's fed, but his tank has not received the attention it should. It was pretty grungy. Apparently as Sadie was going to sleep my husband heard her yell from her bedroom "Daddy! Daddy! Fishy's not breathing! Fishy's not breathing!" Tears were streaming down her face. Yes, it did look as though Fishy was gone. But upon closer inspection they realized there was still some fight left in the little fellow. Emergency after hours tank cleaning commenced. Fishy was still barely moving, but looked perkier then he had. Sadie was praised for realizing Fishy was in trouble, but her dad also prepared her for the fact that he may not make it. And yes, we both thought that in the morning we would finding him floating atop the fish tank and we would need to again remind her she did all she could.
At 7:00 am this morning we heard another yell from Sadie's room. She was in bed. This yell had a different tone. "He made it! He made it! Fishy made it!" Ecstatic. That is the only word I could use to describe her tone. Ecstatic. Fishy is indeed happily swimming in circles. He appears to have made a full recovery. Sadie saved his life.
Fishy was given a second chance because of the care of a 4 year old. And now we will ensure his tank shines. Perhaps we will even drop in another tree or two.