Archive for March 7th, 2011

I was talking to my seven-year-old niece a while ago and told her that one of our Koi fish died.  She asked me a barrage of questions that only an active  and intelligent mind of a seven-year old could ask about.

Anong kulay  Tita, yung namatay?’, she asked. It’s as if she knows that depending on the color alone  she could identify which of the bigger ones died. Earlier on she asked why it died, so I told her that when her Tito (my hubby) was cleaning the pond last Friday, he transferred the Koi in a large pail failing to put the net on the lid. One of the bigger  Koi jumped and landed on the soft carabao grass near the pond.  It was still alive when hubby placed them all back to the pond but this one kept on swimming near the surface so I told him that it might die. It was grasping for breath when I took a look late evening of Friday.

Sayang naman Tita”, my niece told me. It was one of the first ten Koi that we bought a year ago when we removed the three Pangasius fish that used to occupy our small pond. It’s like these creatures are also part of the household just like our four dogs romping in the garden everyday. When we removed it from the water, I was surprised to see that the dead Koi was bigger than I thought measuring around six inches in length. The funny thing was, our four dogs just stayed near the dead fish, not even touching it. It’s like they knew that this one was not theirs to eat. This is not the first time though that accidents like this happened. There are two left of the original ten now. Although we replaced them with smaller ones, I miss the silver and golden hues of the dead ones.

Why am I mourning over a dead fish? It could be replaced anytime right? The thing is, they are part of my daily routine – visiting the garden every morning, saying a prayer or two to Mama Mary while in front of her image at the grotto atop the pond. I usually watch the fish swim and they are a joy to see while they grab the colorful pellets of food that hubby give them every day. It’s the feeling of peace and quiet  and the graceful way the fish swim back and forth, unmindful of anyone watching that make me admire these creatures.  In their world, everything is defined, they might just be contented just exercising their colorful and shiny bodies while swimming in a confined space.  And yes, I remember my inquisitive niece asking almost a year ago, do fish ever sleep? And I have to research on that, learning how to answer the wisdom of a six-year old.

And I’d like to add, fish swim, they don’t fly!


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