We were tidying up the yard, yet a-freakin-gain, in anticipation of the way too soon winter weather that we’ll be hit with. We’ve already had a nice six inches of snow, but it’s gone now, almost as quick as it came and today is a sunny, chilly, fall day. Perfect for running fish over with a lawmower.
Say what? Back up! Who ran what over?
Only in my backyard friends. Only in my backyard.
Sadly, our two big Koi, Suki and Kia, died a few weeks ago. We don’t think it was the cold but we can’t imagine what the hell else it could have been. But there they were, big dead fish with big dead fish eyes. Floating amongst the jungle of lettuce. Gross.
Being the ‘circle of life’ people what we are, we put our beloved fishies in the back garden. They’ll enrich the soil and give me something to squeal about next spring when I’m planting. Or at least worry whether I’m going to plunge my hand in fish remains when I’m putting in my tomatoes. It’s like extreme gardening…very exhilarating.
My loving husband is in charge of burying random animals and so you would figure that he’d remember where he put them. You’d think that when he was mowing around the garden, he’d be somewhat cognizant of the fact that he’d thrown decomposing fish there. You’d think he’d avoid that particular patch of the garden.
Nope, my husband ran over our big, decaying, smelly orange Koi fish with the lawnmower. The mulching lawnmower. It made a grand mess and had him on hands and knees in the back yard gagging and nearly puking. As he put it “the side show in the backyard started early this morning”. It was way too funny. Fish being broadcast over the backyard, fence and gate, husband immediately falling over sick. The noise, the theatrics. It was all perfectly choreographed for the neighbors. And hey, isn’t that why we do it? To amuse the neighbors?
But even funnier than him nearly losing his breakfast on the satellite dish or the scene, gruesome as it was, of the fish getting mulched was when he came in and told our ten year old daughter. My husband told her he had run over the fish. She got a look of horror on her face as if she was staring Ted Bundy in the eye. It was easy to read.
“The dead one.” My husband said.
“Oh.” My daughter said.
And there it was. My daughter thought my husband was in the back yard pond, scooping out fish and running them over with a lawnmower. It’s evidentially what our children really think of him. Like we nurtured and cared and for God’s sake named these fish just so we could turn them into fertilizer in the fall. We’re monsters.
We laughed at her. Oh, we did it in the kitchen, away from her and we did it quietly so she couldn’t hear us. We didn’t want her to get hurt feelings. Sure, we’ll mow down fish, but we won’t ridicule our kids!