Ernie is dead! (Shouting ‘Long live the Ernie” sounds like it should come next, but that wouldn’t make any sense, now would it …)

While working in Florida, I adopted a small blue beta fish, a friendly little creature who sat on my desk, helping me wile away the long hours between actually doing work. The fish — who, for some reason, I named in honor of Hemingway — was always there to suggest possible angles on stories or let me know who he thought should be interviewed for a particular piece.

When I left the Daytona Beach News-Journal, I left Ernie behind, figuring his inspirational presence would help the office in my absence. I failed to think of the impact my leavetaking would have on the little guy.

Earlier this week, Ernie obviously realized I wasn’t coming back for him and committed suicide — possibly by drowning himself. (Actually, I haven’t totally ruled out foul play. Some of the people who work there …) It must have been hard on him, the dawning realization that he was all alone in the world, with no one paying attention to his cries for help.

First the squirrel and now the fish. Even without dwelling on the Hamster Tragedy, I should probably start avoiding animals.