dwarfgourami
Fish Connoisseur
and, above all, never ever trust me as a diagnostician!
In a previous very dejected thread I told how my favourite platy whom I had suspected had worms was going downhill, hiding in the corner, grossly bloated, and finally attacked by the young male guppy, a sure sign that death was imminent.
We were going on our annual camping trip to the New Forest, and there was nothing I could do for her. I knew I ought to have the moral courage to follow Wilder’s advice and euthanize her, but time was short and I couldn’t key myself up. So I put her in a breeding net, with a plant, so she should at least be allowed to die with dignity. A last look seemed to suggest that she was beginning to pinecone, but the family were stamping at the door. So, having told our daughter to say goodbye to Smudge ("she may not be here when wwe get back"), we rushed off to the station reached the platform at the same time as the train.
I lay awake in my sleeping-bag at night (freezing cold in the Forest this time of year!) and grieved for poor little Smudge, thinking I should have been able to do more for her. My daughter told me she wanted her to be buried, not just binned “because she was special”.
Got back home, dreading the sight, told the children to stay downstairs until I’d checked the tank, and …
well, you’ve probably guessed it, folks. Smudge was sitting in her breeding net, with a round dozen of fry and the smug expression of someone who’s had rather a good lunch.
I am not sure we are home and dry yet, Smudge does look a bit under the weather and may not be long for this world, but at least she is a lot slimmer and no sign of pine-coning, they must have been stretch-marks! And she sure has left a legacy!
In a previous very dejected thread I told how my favourite platy whom I had suspected had worms was going downhill, hiding in the corner, grossly bloated, and finally attacked by the young male guppy, a sure sign that death was imminent.
We were going on our annual camping trip to the New Forest, and there was nothing I could do for her. I knew I ought to have the moral courage to follow Wilder’s advice and euthanize her, but time was short and I couldn’t key myself up. So I put her in a breeding net, with a plant, so she should at least be allowed to die with dignity. A last look seemed to suggest that she was beginning to pinecone, but the family were stamping at the door. So, having told our daughter to say goodbye to Smudge ("she may not be here when wwe get back"), we rushed off to the station reached the platform at the same time as the train.
I lay awake in my sleeping-bag at night (freezing cold in the Forest this time of year!) and grieved for poor little Smudge, thinking I should have been able to do more for her. My daughter told me she wanted her to be buried, not just binned “because she was special”.
Got back home, dreading the sight, told the children to stay downstairs until I’d checked the tank, and …
well, you’ve probably guessed it, folks. Smudge was sitting in her breeding net, with a round dozen of fry and the smug expression of someone who’s had rather a good lunch.
I am not sure we are home and dry yet, Smudge does look a bit under the weather and may not be long for this world, but at least she is a lot slimmer and no sign of pine-coning, they must have been stretch-marks! And she sure has left a legacy!