Maybe one of the harder parts about losing a pet is that their lifespan vividly brackets those years of your own existence, and leaves us to realize how quickly time passes. For Kanye, it was no different. But also for Kanye, there is the sting of a loss of a friend and a role model; something that not all Kanyes can boast.
Kanye was a goldfish who lived well beyond two years and provided our office an oasis; a bubbling respite around which we swirled. Our buzzing human activity paused only to peer into the parallel universe of our underwater associate.
He tied the room together like Lebowski’s rug. He was the centerpiece of countless conversations. He was the backdrop to dozens of videos. He was, in the case of my children, the first thing they ran to see when they visited my work.
Physically, Kanye was impressive. He was four inches long with a majestic tail.
Mentally, he swam beyond his peers. He entertained himself by blowing bubbles and, we can only guess, relished our panic whenever he floated to the top of his tank and swam upside down. To be honest, we thought he was dead at least a dozen times.
Kanye seemed unperturbed by his glass walls, the noise of domain launch parties, and the distant tip-tapping of coding keys. He kept pace, like a fluid metronome, to our daily parade of ins and outs.
Eventually, he’d do what many of us cannot: shared his small world with a new friend, Swim Shady. (At this time Swim is not a suspect in any alleged foul play.)
And just as he lived, Kanye went out big. His body was discovered in the mouth of a shark—the aquarium decor providing one last respite for him to live the impossible dream.
The dream that saw a little fish plucked from millions and ascend successfully to our top-of-the-food-chain turf.
Kanye will always be grace and he will always be durability. Moving from office to office, company to company, tank to tank, he will always be Kanye, our legendary office fish. And the new standard for aquatic awesome everywhere.
