R.I.P Tom Cat

This morning Ryan and Madelyn discovered that our fish, Tom, had died. Tom wasn't just any kind of fish, he was a mad tomcat fish that was rescued or, more like kidnapped, from a creek on Easter two years ago. I never thought he would make it a month, let alone two years. As silly as it may sound I got rather attached to Tom (my sister and brother-in-law have witnessed me being a complete wreck over a dying pet fish before). Tom spent most of his life hiding under rocks and would only come out to check things out when he was hungry. I was usually the one to feed Tom, if I remembered, when I would see him happily swimming around his bowl. I would chat with him for a bit, throw in a few blood worms and watch him eat. Then when he was done he would make his way under the rocks again. This became our evening routine. He was a low maintenace fish that only required chlorine free water and some rocks. I cleaned his bowl only when it was too dirty to look through. He survived three trips down the drain thanks to Ryan being able to take the drain pipe apart and "fish" him out. I think what I liked most about him is that he wasn't the average fish, he was a tadbit unique. R.I.P Tom Cat.