Wolfe’s Woofer: Goldfish Funeral
Sunday, January 10th, 2016
“Hey, it’s late,” Sherry called. “Time to get up.”
“What time is it?” I asked.
“It’s almost 8:30.”
“Leave me alone for now,” I said. “We’re playing music at Melt Café tonight and I don’t have to be anywhere until then. I’m sleeping in.”
Just then my phone rang and Sherry picked it up and said, “Hi, Melody. No; he’s asleep.”
“I’ll take it,” I said. “What’s up sweetheart?”
“Davin’s goldfish died and he wants you to come to the funeral.”
“What time do I have to be there?”
“Any time this morning.”
When I got to his house Davin told me, “Goldy’s dead, Grandpa,”
Sure enough, the little outside goldfish pond was empty. Davin was digging a hole next to it with a beach shovel.
“Here kitty, kitty, kitty!”
Melody’s next door neighbor came around the corner calling for his cat. He saw Davin working away and stopped to investigate.
“What are you digging, Davin?”
“My goldfish died and I couldn’t flush him down the toilet. I’m digging a hole to bury him.”
“That’s a very big hole for a tiny little goldfish,” the neighbor said. “Why is it so big?”
Davin said, “Because he’s in your cat.”
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