A sad day for Fred

This morning Esme found Fred, one of our fish, trapped in the new piece of weed we put in the tank last week. She came running into the kitchen to tell me, 'Mummy, Fred is very clever. Come and see.' My heart sunk.

I went and looked, half hoping he was floating on the top - I could have dealt with that better. But the poor thing was stuck in between two bits of weed. No longer struggling to get free; clearly exhausted. 

I let him go immediately. But Fred failed to open up. Still shaped like a letter 'c' where he had managed to spend (I presume) all night curled around the fat stem. I could see it wouldn't be long. 

With no energy left to swim, he was quickly sucked toward the filter, to be stuck there too for a moment. Horrified, I turned the filter off, and swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat.  

Esme worked it all out for herself. Her eyes filled with tears as she fell into my lap. "My fish is dying isn't it Mummy." Shocked by her understanding (her first brush with death), I hushed her calm. It didn't last long though and when we got to school, she burst into tears again. 

The teacher took my precious little 4yo girl by the hand into teddy corner. It was the first time this entire reception year that I've left her upset. Sobbing even. I haven't been able to stop thinking about her and the 3pm pick-up can't come quick enough. All over a fish. I feel this may perhaps be another very valid reason why not to have a dog... 

So water or ground burial do u think?