Rest in Peace, My Sweet Friend

Today I had to say goodbye to my fascinating pet, Charlie. He was a Black Moor goldfish and was absolutely beautiful. He was large with a long fantail and was dusted in gold and orange. Named after one of my favorite characters in cinema, Uncle Charlie from Alfred Hitchcock's Shadow of a Doubt, my Charlie was also one of the greatest characters. I loved him very much. And as I wrote about previously in the entry Mighty Companions, yesterday I had to say a prayer for this wonderful pet to die. 

I had been saying the exact opposite type of prayer for a week after Charlie developed Ich. I'll tell you right now, I feel this disease is a death sentence. The treatments for it always tell you that it won't cure the fish. It cures the Ich that is present in the water. I feel that the disease had too much of a hold on Charlie that curing the water wasn't what he needed. He needed much more. 

But the prayers for help weren't working. Charlie was getting worse. He wasn't eating or swimming, and his breathing was getting quite rapid. He looked terrible and there was nothing I could do to help him. I felt so awful that I couldn't help.

Yesterday morning, after I awoke from a dream about Charlie, I went to his tank and said a different kind of prayer. I asked that he be taken from me so that he would no longer have to suffer. Yes, I prayed that my pet would die.

It sounds so awful to admit that, and this is the second time I've had to do it. But what else could I do? Charlie was dying, he was suffering. Nothing could help him but the grace of God. I realized that my prayers for him to stay were selfish and were only prolonging his suffering. He needed to get better. 

The only way I could help him was to let him go. That was the hardest thing to do, but I know it was right. 

All things bright and beautiful,

All creatures great and small,

All things wise and wonderful,

The Lord God made them all.

Goodnight, my sweet Charlie.