My Excuse for This Glass of Wine

... and the tear.

My fish, Lono, has passed away.

I expected to be upset. You can get attached to an inanimate object if you've had it for long enough, even more so for a fish. And a damn good one.

I'm relieved too. He was a fighter until the end, but today it just hurt to watch him.

He was my first grown-up pet. He was with me when I met my last boyfriend, with me when I dumped the asshole, with me when I moved to Queens into a sweltering closet of a room, when I moved a week later, when I was unemployed (and maybe talked to him a little too much, though he never judged) and when -- recently-- the possibility of the Big Easy finally presented itself as more than a dream.

A toilet burial would be sacrilegious.

Here's to my fish. I will deliver him into the East River by my house tomorrow morning.