The Beta Fish

As the title suggests, my first two pets were beta fish. Otherwise known as Japanese Fighting Fish.
The first one was named Figaro (from Disney's Pinocchio). I know the character is really a cat, and it's ironic. What can I say? I was in third grade when we got him/her. Figaro was a pretty ruby-red beta swimming around in a personal tank, no other fish around. A few kelp leaves, gravel at the bottom, a few bobbing surface toys to nudge around. For a solitary fish, it had everything.
After about five months of having the fish, I go into my room to feed it after coming home from school. There, lying on the rug of my bedroom floor was Figaro, long dead. The trail of water on my dresser was the indicator that the fish had jumped out of its bowl, flopped on my dresser before falling off onto my floor. Either that had killed it or the lack of water - whichever. Devastated, I screamed for my mom who came in and took care of it while I ran into the family room crying my eyes out.

Fast forward two years later. I am now in fifth grade and I asked for another fish. My dad brought me to the pet store where I got another beta fish. It was a vibrant blue color with pale ivory tips on its frilly fins. I named it Skye (...I'm so original). This time, Skye lasted a LONG time. A little over a year. I remember, now in middle school it was school picture day. I brought a friend with me home from school and went into my room to feed Skye. Lo-and-behold, I walk in, and there is Skye, on the carpet, dead. There was another trail of water on my dresser. The second beta fish to jump out of its bowl and commit suicide.

Clearly, I have never been meant to own a fish. My other pets have been, and are dogs.