I loved my goldfish Nigel,
He'd beg for feeds and play.
He didn't have a lot of chat,
But he'd pass the time of day.
Then tragically one summer,
Nigel's health was much in doubt,
For he'd swollen up to twice his size,
And his scales were sticking out.
Unhappily, I rang a friend,
Sobbed symptoms down the line.
With great relief, I heard her say,
"That happened once to mine."
Attentively, I listened:
Hope waned, my spirits sank.
She had thought, "It's constipation,"
And put Eno's in the tank.
Her fish, she said, had fizzed a bit
Then, looking very tired,
Had collapsed upon the bottom
And quietly expired.
Expert help was needed.
Expert help I'd get:
Without more hesitation
I took Nigel to the vet.
That kind man saw my brimming eyes,
My lower lip a-quiver,
And in the gentlest terms explained,
"It's dropsy of the liver.
But never mind, dear lady.
We'll keep him overnight.
A minor op will be performed
Then he should be all right."
And so he was next morning:
He was fit and slim and sleek,
But my delight was too short-lived
For after just a week
I found Nigel looking sick again.
He wore a troubled frown,
And fins a-waving gently
He was floating upside down.
Into the fish's water
A drop of brandy went.
It didn't make Nige better,
But I think he died content.
I placed his shiny body -
Oh mournful was my mood -
Into a foil container
That had once held Chinese food.
In the interest of science,
And because the vet had tried,
I took Nigel for post-mortem,
To find out why he'd died.
A lady in the waiting room
My humble package eyed.
She asked, "What have you got in there?"
"A goldfish," I replied.
"He hasn't got much water,"
This perceptive person said.
But he didn't need much water.
They don't when they are dead.
RIP Nigel
Hatched c January 1962
Passed away 15th August 1976 aged 14 years
Sadly missed
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