We had to say goodbye to Little Dude, the Betta fish, last night.
Way back in Feb. of 2013, when I first moved to Minneapolis by myself, K got me what I thought was a plant to make my basement dwelling a bit more homely. Turns out, there was a fish in the jar with the plant.
“His name is Little Dude,” she said late one evening at my grandparent’s house. “So you have someone to keep you company.”
Turns out, that was a very true statement.
When all I did was go to work and go back to my living quarters, Little Dude was the only thing waiting for me…because, lets face it, he had to because he was trapped in a glass cage of emotion. But, he seemed to enjoy it. He would swim around at Mach 2 speeds when you came home and it was time to eat. He became mesmerized by the one decorative light that I had in my humble abode. He even enjoyed road trips back and forth to Omaha, swimming to the bottom of his bowl when we hit the road so he wouldn’t fall out. I think it’s safe to say that in the 1 1/2 years Little Dude was around, he went on more road trips than any fish in recorded human history. Wherever Team Stein went, Little Dude went. He also enjoyed floating perpendicular in the water and sleeping on the rocks at the bottom.
If fish got eulogies, his would read something like this:
“We are celebrating the life of Little Dude. He loved the open road, and was never more excited than when he was listening to the old red truck purr like a gorilla. And, of course, he loved his Creedence…after all, even Little Dudes abide.”