A Fishy Farewell

This morning I took Max down to Whatcom Creek and sent him on his way. We've had so much rain that the falls were thundering and it was quite poetic to see his little body, a flash of orange (dulled a bit by death of course), as it hung in the crisp morning air for a fraction of a second before disappearing into the white foam.

This spot is right across the street from the courthouse where I work. It's part of a whole waterway and park system that runs through Bellingham and I love to go there for a relaxing moment. Now I'm going to consider it Max's spot.

One of our Judges is an accomplished musician and plays a number of instruments of which the bagpipe is my second favorite (the guitar is first). As I stood by the falls I thought perhaps I should have asked him if he would have minded piping something appropriate for Max's little funeral. Picture it -- the skirl of the pipes in the crisp morning air, mist rising off the falls, Max sailing through the air on his final grand journey. I think it would have been lovely but I'm afraid I would have run the risk of being committed for a mental evaluation, probably by the same Judge.

Anyway, Max had a lovely, one-of-a-kind funeral, and I'm sure if he knew how much fuss I made over him he be pleased. (If you'd like to see Max in better condition, check my blip of 9/5/13)

I'm now entertaining thoughts of getting another fish. Please stop me.