On the passing of Spock, the Betta Fish

I wrote this poem a few years ago, after the passing of a beloved Betta Fish. 

On the passing of Spock, the Betta fish

Four years, you swam on my desk.
An oasis of logic in a sea of paper.
You read my junk mail;
You reminded me to be logical
As you swam around your ceramic Buddha
And attacked your own reflection –
A testament to how often
we are our own worst enemy.

You made no comment when I rearranged the office furniture
To make room for a baby
And refrained from saying “I told you so” when I moved it back.
You just swam a little more smugly.

These last few months,
You’ve mostly kept to yourself
At the bottom of your bowl.
Resting.

I thought I’d lost you a dozen times,
But you would resume your slow patrol,
After a firm shake roused you from your rest.

I wish you well on your journey to
Wherever fish go.
But before your bowl is dry,
Or Bones, Chekov or Uhura swim in your place
In your rocks,
Around your Buddha,
And battle a new reflection,
A new enemy,
A new arrangement of furniture,
I wanted to note your passing
And thank you
For your company.

So you wouldn’t be just another fish
Bought for a few dollars at the pet store,
Enthusiastic about lunch,
And your reflection
Who lived, died and was buried
“At sea.”

You were a constant companion,
An ever available
If unresponsive
Listening ear.

I will miss our talks,
Your silent advice,
Your battles with yourself
As I continue mine.

Farewell, my friend
And thank you for sharing the journey with me
As friends do.

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