Meet Rocky. He’s Wyokiddo’s fish, bought to replace the gold fish she won at a 4-H carnival that died approximately 15 hours after we brought it home. Rocky is much more hearty, and photogenic. Thankfully.
Someday, we’ll tell Wyokiddo stories about her first pet. Stories like how for the first three weeks after his arrival, she’d wake up in the morning, run to his bowl and breathlessly exclaim “Oh thank goodness! Mama, Mama, Rocky didn’t die last night!”
Her enthusiasm for Rocky has waned a little bit with the arrival of Ziggy the puppy. But I will still catch Wyokiddo standing at Rocky’s bowl, her finger tracing a path for Rocky to follow. She chatters at him, telling the fish stories of her day, her friends and her life.
It warms my heart. Somewhere in the heavens, there’s a chestnut mare with spots and an attitude that has all my childhood secrets woven through her thin, black mane.
Now Rocky will have Wyokiddo’s secrets, and she’ll always have a photo of this beautiful little guy.