Oh well... I still am pleading with the Divine Being here and now for the life of little Murdoc, the dragon goldfish that Freya brought home years ago. He has been with me longer than the Puttikins, oddly enough. He must be nine years old at least. I thought he was extraordinarily ugly at first with his huge 'bug eyes' or 'pop eyes'. As I cared for him month after month, year after year, I bonded with him. I grew to love him. He is part of the family... and he has been dying now for three days. I thought he had died this morning and was preparing a burial shroud when I saw a gill move.
He is on his back most of the time now. I never knew a fish to recover from that position but... I do believe in miracles, so let's make a deal, God! A deal that offers you absolutely nothing beyond my boundless and eternal gratitude. I will not rage if Murdoc dies but I will weep. I was weeping this morning, even though I do understand more than most people, as I am in pain all the time, that Death is a release from pain and misery, loss and sorrow and everything else that bedevils the human soul and body. But please... come to my aid here, Divine Mother of All, and hear my prayer, mother to mother, and set Murdoc gently back into balance so he can continue to swim and breathe and be part of this strange little family of mine.
