RIP Gavin

I killed my neighbor's fish, Gavin. At least that was the gist of the message she left on my phone and which I retrieved when I got home from the YWCA event.

Last night I was at her house and peering into Gavin's new home - this small bowl with dirty water. He looked logy.

So I commented that I did not think she fed him enough (she was feeding him every third day). She replied that that feeding schedule was what had been advised to her. Being me, I argued with her.

I had kept Gavin for her while she was out of the country for a month last year. I noticed that, by the end of the second day after being fed, he was lounging around on the bottom of his bowl. I consulted with my brother, who used to work at a tropical fish emporium.

He told me to feed the fish more, which I did. He (the fish) was happy. I also cleaned his bowl out as soon as the water got cloudy.

So she fed the fish last night, based on my argument, and he died in the night. His stomach was all distended, she said in the message.

I don't know how to approach this with her (she also told me in the message that she was very upset and had a little ceremony to honor Gavin).

The whole time I had that fish last year, I worried that I would kill it. Now it has come to pass.

I killed Gavin. Or not. I guess I should have told her to change the water in his bowl. Then maybe I wouldn't feel so guilty.