My son lost his first pet, Pickwick the fish, yesterday. My husband and I stared at each other when we found poor Pickwick, and debated the time honored choices of 1. telling him and 2. buying a replacement and pretending nothing had happened. I was leaning towards 2, knowing how much my son would be affected. My husband, fortunately though, kept a level head, and said we shouldn’t hide anything from our son. So we called out to both our kids, and told them. My daughter gave a reasonably sympathetic shrug, and waltzed away. My son, of course, burst into tears. The rest of the day was spent with my son intermittently crying, my husband and I reassuring and hugging, and a trip to PetsMart to buy another fish (also named Pickwick. Not Pickwick II, or Pickwick Jr, or Pickwick the 2nd; just Pickwick. Interestingly enough, the first fish is now Pickwick #1).We discussed the joys and sadnesses of pets, again: the joy they provide,and the void they leave once they leave us. I have had multiple conversations about death with my kids, and they lost a grandfather recently enough to have had an experience with it. However, grandpa lived many miles away and only saw them once a year. Pickwick was a daily feature. Without depressing my son even further, I had to explain that everything dies. However, I did stress that we were told this fish would last 5 months; it lasted 2.5 years (due to the love and care he received at home, I reassured my son). I think this helped him somewhat. My husband was keen we flush the fish (telling my son it should go back to its home, the sea); my son wanted to bury it (our worry with the burial is our dog, who loves digging things up). Nonetheless, a burial was done, replete with a “R.I.P.” gravestone (made of paper and featured here), that was buried with Pickwick. To preempt puppy, we have placed a flowerpot on the burial spot. And today I heard my son telling his grandfather that when the new fish dies, he’s planning to get yet another fish. Guess kids really do move on!