All Fish Go To Heaven!?!?!?!?!?

No need for any theological debates here, it is just a silly title. Saturday morning while cooking breakfast my dear husband cried wolf, only this time it was really a wolf (or a dead fish). I don't know how many times in the past 3 years my husband has joked around about one of the fish dying. It really isn't that funny, is it? A dear friend of the family (thanks Uncle Hank) had given Mr. N a beta fish for his 4th birthday. He was red and Mr. N named him Robert. He fed him (most of the time), watched him and talked to him on a regular basis. Always wanted to be sure he was well taken care of. Well, Robert has met his maker. I was very apprehensive of telling the boys that Robert was gone. Mr. N was heartbroken. He cried on and off the whole day. He went through all the stages of grief.
Denial - "Are you sure his dead, maybe he's asleep of just pretending."
Anger -"Well, if dad had changed the water like I asked him to 2 weeks ago maybe he wouldn't have died" (point taken-way to go DAD) =)
Bargaining - "I'll never forget to feed him again if he comes back to life"
Depression - "I am just so sad, can we put stones around his grave" "Can I visit him again"
Acceptance - "Well, Robert was old" "Can I get a new one?"

Oh yes and we did (get a new that is). We opted for a female beta. Bluie Girl has joined Bluie Boy (Mr. I's fish) and the boys are absolutely positive they are falling in love. So Mr. N's broken heart is healing even though he wants to make sure that everyone knows Robert is not replaceable and that Robert has gone to fishy heaven. Not really the time to discuss any theological ideas regarding heaven and animals. So we have survived the first death of a family pet with no known psychological scars.