Ivan was a purple male veiltail
betta I acquired January 31, 2009. He lived happily alone in a 3g Eclipse on a side table in my living room, amusing me every day - he would be awake before the sun, moving around as soon as there was motion in the room, interested in everything. He always came to the glass to say Hi whenever I'd walk up to his tank. Never once did he build a bubble nest, but he flared at anything that moved including all three of my cats. He spent most of his day happily fighting his reflection, and always won the fight. He would burrow under his box filter, under his rock ornament, under anything in his tank, and then look up at me like he was saying, 'What? is there a problem?'
Ivan died today, after enduring some sort of toxicity that left him paralyzed. I don't know exactly what caused it or how it was introduced, and may never know. I did all I could for him, and I wish I could have saved him but it wasn't enough.
Out of all the fish I've had to endure the deaths of - so very, very many - this one hurts the most. Because Ivan was a really special little fish. He was a sweet, inquisitive, friendly and curious little thing, a really wonderful pet. He was my favourite fish. Ever.
I am so sorry Ivan that I couldn't prevent your suffering. I wanted to give you a happy, healthy life, and for five short months that's what you had. You cannot be replaced. I will miss you.
Rest in peace, my sweet little Ivan.