Lars Paul was my male betta, named after the Swedish founder of Augustana College, Lars Paul Esbjörn. He is, unfortunately, no longer with us. Either of them.
Nick got him for me as a birthday present. I'm unsure of the day I purchased him as well as the exact date of his death. All I know is, he is still floating upside down in his fish tank, growing more colorless everyday.
Before you judge, let me just say that during his lifetime, Lars received everything a betta needs. Food, a one-gallon tank with blue gravel and glass pebbles, a filter and air pump, a few fake plants and a small buddha. His current lingering state is due partially to the fact that I plan to take him home and bury him next to his predecessor, Gilbert. The water's not gross because the filter's still running. I thought about taking him out and freezing him to avoid nasty decay before I leave for home. That still hasn't happened. So, mostly, he's still in his tank because of the fair amount of guilt I feel when I attempt to take him out.
Showing affection for a fish looks and sounds as ridiculous as it seems. Hard to do but principally manifests itself as either baby talk or illusory ideas that it is happy to see you or that it gets excited when it knows it's going to be fed. As time passed, the thrill of moving out on my own and starting a new job began to fade. I adopted a six-week-old black female kitten and named her Atticus (Atti) after my favorite To Kill a Mockingbird character. I grew bored of Lars and except for his cleanings and feedings, I mostly ignored him.
It seems silly and it is to some degree. I'm sure I paid more attention to my fish than plenty of other fish owners and was a better owner. What bothers me is that I was affectionate at some point because I was capable of it. I wanted to show a fish love. Once it stopped entertaining me and something more fun came along, he annoyed me and I grew tired of him. At one point, I even wished it would die so that I wouldn't have to clean his tank anymore. I didn't love Lars like but I did like him, initially. Even with a matter as trivial and small as the death of a Wal-Mart fish, my own standards are the ones that matter and for me, it only seems right to own up to my own degree of selfishness.
This entry is similar to the act of reconciliation or confession in the Catholic church. While I never agreed with the idea of using a middle man to confess your sins in order to be absolved....there is something about the process of saying things aloud to someone (even in some virtual fashion). It's as if faults seem real, regardless of your own thoughts, only when you've openly admitted it as a fault.
I doubt Lars died of a broken heart or a lack of attention. To him, I was probably only some sort of visual and audio stimulus. But that's irrelevant. Even if my guilt stems from a combination of 18 years of Catholicism and too many viewings of Finding Nemo, if I am to be honest with myself, I must admit, I could've been better to him.
To Lars, who was good at swimming and looking beautiful. Skål.
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