2006-11-30 - 9:55 p.m.

I�m sad to report the death (or imminent death, to be brutally accurate) of FreemanHardyWillis, loyal companion, playful friend and goldfish of ten years.

Named not after actors Morgan, Oliver and Bruce, but the vaguely successful UK highstreet shoe store of the 1980s, he was one of three abandoned pets that I took from a housemate moving onto bigger and better things, both in the housing and animal senses. I like to think I saved them from a potentially exciting but inevitably short life negotiating the London sewerage system.

Back in those days, they were very much 3 individually-named creatures � Freeman, Hardy and Willis. I never had a favourite, partly because they were equally adorable, but mostly because I could never for the life of me tell which one was which. They were like the three musketeers, in small orange form and without the sword-wielding capabilities.

Moving house twice and a relaxed feeding regime (though remember, �a hungry fish is a happy fish�) meant that over the years (that�s YEARS before you start to think I was a bad owner), their number was reduced by two. Which two, I haven�t the foggiest, and it seemed impolite to just randomly assign the surviving one a possibly inaccurate moniker.

He was the winner after all. The strongest. He shouldn�t lose the name he wasn�t born with. So to be safe, he inherited all three, as well as a new companion, Ken (the) Loach. Well, there�s no way I was getting another unidentifiable goldfish.

This new odd couple had many happy years together. At least, I assume they were happy. They weren�t ripping each other to shreds, which in fish world is a ready sign of contentment. I moved them out of their dull rectangular tank and into a chic retro bowl, which became a real talking point for visitors, �Are you sure they have enough room?� being a popular comment.

Many happy, roomy years later, FHW developed a kink. Bendy fish aren�t strictly as nature intended, but several weeks of heavy research later only suggested a vitamin deficiency or electricity n the water. There was definitely no electricity. I checked the fish food, and although there were no vitamins listed, the main ingredient was �fish�, and we all know how good that is for you. Sorted.

Sadly, it was a quick decline. He started swimming slowly, and was seemingly less and less enthusiastic when I drunkenly plopped my fingers in the tank for him to affectionately nuzzle (one of our favourite shared activities).

When I found him swimming around upside down this evening, I knew it wasn�t just a kooky attempt to get a fresh perspective on bowl life, and with heavy fingers, typed the words �humane� �method� �kill� and �goldfish� into Google.

Goldfish euthanasia is a raging hotbed of competing theories, but most concerned owners (this word seems inappropriate � you could never own such a free spirit as FreemanHardyWillis, though the fact of keeping him in a bowl and him relying on me for food didn�t exactly promote a relationship of equals) seem to favour the freezer method.

Goldfish are used to cold water and low temperatures (it says here), and putting them in a receptacle and then popping them in the freezer means that their body temperature slowly lowers until they slip unknowingly into, well, death.

I took FHW out of his bowl in the most dignified fashion I could muster (using a virgin soup ladle) and put him in the best of my unused cups, now his little frozen china fishy coffin.

RIP FreemanHardyWillis. You will be missed and, eventually, dethawed.