Your Pet Loss Stories

by Pippa
(Britain, UK)

It all started when I was only two years old. We had come back from a holiday abroad and I had not spent most of my holiday money. Ma knew that I'd always loved fish. I used to make up stories of different fish living in the sea next to our house.

So Ma spent the remainder of my money on goldfish where as the left over euros were made pounds again and spent on a tank.

The first three died within a year. The fourth died a couple of years after; leaving an orange and a silver left.

The orange one died at a content 6 years of age, but the silver one lived on.

In the end, 'Fish' the fish got too old to swim. We bought some small and round, smooth; pebbles to go into the bottom of the tank. Fish then got about by wiggling its tail. He lived until I was eleven years old. We got up one morning and Nana realised that he was struggling to stay upright. In the end he lost his battle.

Nana put him in a small box that she had found after wrapping him in a cloth hankie. We then buried him in the flowerbed in the garden. A few months later Nana had that area slabbed over, so nobody would ever disturb his RIP. The only proof that he was ever there at all was the castle fish tank decoration that was perched in a plant pot owning his rose bush, sitting over a top of his resting place.