7 Bettas, Innumerable Snails, 3 Mice, 1 Madagascar hisser, 3 Halloween hissers
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3,489 Posts
It's never easy writing one of these but it's even worse when we only got such a short amount of time together.
April 8th, 2022
I remember walking into the store that day. It had been a long day, I was exhausted, I was done with people, and I was on the edge of losing my manners.
I don't recall exactly why I went into that store, but I do remember looking over the bettas. I never plan on when I get a betta, it usually just happens, but generally I do some thinking. With you though, you were a genuine whim. And one I have never failed to regret.
You hovered calmly in your little jar, with a sore on your gill, and a swollen face. At the time, I was still reeling from the loss of two of my boys, and dealing with a third with dropsy, who I later lost just a few days after bringing you home. It's often occupied my mind that those reasons were why I brought you home. I was feeling like I had failed my boys and I didn't know if I could help you but I knew I wanted to try.
So I proceeded to pick up your jar and carry you to the register. They took you back to put you in a bag and I remember hearing them discuss the wound on your face. Nothing was ever mentioned to me, but if it had been, I would've fought to take you home still no matter what they said.
The cashier brought you back, made a comment on your beauty, and the rest is history. You came home, I named you Cascade due to your colour, and treatment was started.
For a few months everything was great. You gained colour and weight, you healed, and we figured out how to work around your crooked mouth. That calmness ended up being a facade and you became a feisty little guy who loved attacking his food, jumping for fingers, and saying hello. Attention was always demanded and always given of course.
But last week. You got bloat and I was ill to the point of where simply crossing the room was difficult. I'll be entirely honest, I don't think you guys have ever had as many meals skipped as you did last week. I did manage one epsom bath before I got worse to which I then just turned to fasting. But when I started to get better, you got worse.
For the last couple of days, your belly continued to swell despite my best efforts with baths and fasting again. Finally, I awoke this morning to find that you had moved on.
I can't help but think that I ended up failing you too at the end. I should've forced myself up to give you those baths, but I didn't. And for that I apologize, as maybe that could've been what saved you.
I hope you can find the ability to forgive me for not doing more for you. I said I'd never trade you for the world but I can't help but feel as if I didn't hold myself to that.
The day we meet at the rainbow bridge, I hope we can put the past behind us and cross together. Until then, you won't be forgotten.
S.I.P Cascade, you'll be missed more than I can put into words little one.
![Bird Plant Beak Pollinator Parrot]()
April 8th, 2022
I remember walking into the store that day. It had been a long day, I was exhausted, I was done with people, and I was on the edge of losing my manners.
I don't recall exactly why I went into that store, but I do remember looking over the bettas. I never plan on when I get a betta, it usually just happens, but generally I do some thinking. With you though, you were a genuine whim. And one I have never failed to regret.
You hovered calmly in your little jar, with a sore on your gill, and a swollen face. At the time, I was still reeling from the loss of two of my boys, and dealing with a third with dropsy, who I later lost just a few days after bringing you home. It's often occupied my mind that those reasons were why I brought you home. I was feeling like I had failed my boys and I didn't know if I could help you but I knew I wanted to try.
So I proceeded to pick up your jar and carry you to the register. They took you back to put you in a bag and I remember hearing them discuss the wound on your face. Nothing was ever mentioned to me, but if it had been, I would've fought to take you home still no matter what they said.
The cashier brought you back, made a comment on your beauty, and the rest is history. You came home, I named you Cascade due to your colour, and treatment was started.
For a few months everything was great. You gained colour and weight, you healed, and we figured out how to work around your crooked mouth. That calmness ended up being a facade and you became a feisty little guy who loved attacking his food, jumping for fingers, and saying hello. Attention was always demanded and always given of course.
But last week. You got bloat and I was ill to the point of where simply crossing the room was difficult. I'll be entirely honest, I don't think you guys have ever had as many meals skipped as you did last week. I did manage one epsom bath before I got worse to which I then just turned to fasting. But when I started to get better, you got worse.
For the last couple of days, your belly continued to swell despite my best efforts with baths and fasting again. Finally, I awoke this morning to find that you had moved on.
I can't help but think that I ended up failing you too at the end. I should've forced myself up to give you those baths, but I didn't. And for that I apologize, as maybe that could've been what saved you.
I hope you can find the ability to forgive me for not doing more for you. I said I'd never trade you for the world but I can't help but feel as if I didn't hold myself to that.
The day we meet at the rainbow bridge, I hope we can put the past behind us and cross together. Until then, you won't be forgotten.
S.I.P Cascade, you'll be missed more than I can put into words little one.
