Aww, beautiful! I'm so sorry about Tycho atleast he is in a happier placeMy first attempt at writing sonnets. I wrote, I cried, I proofread, and I cried some more. Tycho was my first betta, and sometimes I wonder if I hadn't been on such a roller coaster of depression, would I have noticed something and done something different? His tail biting was a constant problem, but I loved him and he understood me in a way that transcended my other fish. I think about him and miss him every day. I love you, Tycho.
The Friendship of Eva and Tycho
Companionship did mine eyes seek
That could live in tiny apartment space.
But all my options seemed so bleek
Till a tiny betta showed his face.
With fins a flutter and color so bright
He took my breath and words away.
I buckled him in my car so tight
Classical on the radio at the end of the day,
And o'er bumpy Lansing roads our friendship soared,
Tiny fish and gentle human,
I drove around potholes duly ignored,
I vowed a good life for this companion.
And after much of a night of searching
for a name, one I went to bed a-singing.
Tycho Constantius was his name,
Red of fin and strong of heart.
His puppy dog antics grew in fame,
It was like his life could truly start,
And in warm water he blossomed true,
So quick and nimble.
The only thing I did rue
Was a minor quibble,
Such tail biting drivel! Countless rearranging,
Warm water changed almost daily,
Snail friend who did no complaining,
Tank side chats that went so gayly,
But nothing could stop Tycho from getting caught
In the fantasy of crowntail-dom that he sought.
And we road tripped home and the year rolled over,
And fin rot set in despite my ministrations,
But eventually the rotting grew slower and slower,
Finally, a little fish owner compensation!
But depression set in with a furious rage,
And I watched Tycho swim as I sat by his tank
While I toiled and hurt from page after page,
Because the work never ended, my wrist I did crank.
But Tycho understood in his puppy dog ways,
Following my finger along the glass,
Though his tail grew more ragged day after day,
He was achieving his dream of short fins at last.
"Oh my puppy dog fish," I said with a wry grin,
"If only I could give you healthy and perfect fins."
Graduation came and graduation went,
His snail friend died suddenly,
So much time packing that I spent
And in bliss I was happily.
I wonder if I did not notice
Until it was too late his thinness,
Stressed he was from the move and this
I did notice, his and mine's shared distress.
But he seemed fine in the immediate aftermath,
The water was better here than there,
But little did I know we neared the end of our path,
And it would end in a frightening scare.
"Four fish all safe and sound," I cried!
"I'd be such a wreck if any of you died."
It was quick,
Probably not painless,
Tycho was sick.
Luckily I had fish meds,
But one night he couldn't move his tail,
Though he never lost his puppy dog countenance.
He had raised scales,
But his attitude seemed normal and boundless.
"It's dropsy," I thought, and my gods, my heart sank,
Though I woke the next morning and fed him and cried,
He was breathing so heavily at the top of his tank.
I came in from checking the mail and found Tycho had died.
I was distraught, I had lost some part of me,
For Tycho taught me a lot about being carefree.
We buried him under a lovely maple tree,
I said a few words on that warm May day.
At least I know his soul is finally free,
And in my heart he will always stay.
His tank now lies empty, stored in the dark,
I stare at it sometimes and wonder
"Will I ever meet another fish of such heart?"
I know not, but I do ponder.
A friend is a friend, no matter how small
And though he could not speak,
He rose to the call,
A better fish I could not seek.
Tycho Constantius, I love you always,
Flapping those fins in my heart till the end of my days.