Well, despite my husband's heroic efforts on his behalf, my beta fish died yesterday. Hubby called me in the late afternoon to tell me, and he sounded very broken up about it. I, on the other hand, had not been dealing with the creature's rapidly declining health all day, every day, and thus had not formed much of an attachment in the mere week we had him. (Not that I didn't feel bad that he'd been suffering, but still...)
My husband would not let one fish's tragic demise shatter his vision of a beautiful, healthy fish for each of us. By the time I got home, he'd handled all the last rites for poor Spectre, cleaned out the tank and filled it with fresh, treated water, replaced the filter, evaluated a series of prospective residents at a trustworthy pet store, and installed a vivid red, orange and blue beta. My husband's suggested name for the new fish: Phoenix. I told him that would remain to be seen.
For now, though, the new fish looks robustly healthy. He darts around his tank, displays his gorgeous "plumage" and treats mealtime like a hunt. He's a lot bigger than his predecessor, so that might be an advantage all by itself.
The whole experience has quelled my desire to have a fish at the office, however. The last thing I need while I'm trying to work is to worry about pH levels, water changes, and swim bladder disorders. Under the circumstances, I think I'd be better off bringing in a lava lamp.