A child’s first touch with Death need not be too traumatic….
My first experience with death occurred traditionally (I’m glad to say) with the death of my goldfish. As befits such a traumatic event, it was tinged with farce as well as tragedy.
In summary, my poor little fish was displaying symptoms of distress in its tank, swimming upside down and so on. For some strange reason it seemed to my parents that the best thing to do would be to call in our next-door neighbour for her sage advice.
Auntie May, the neighbour in question, was from Aberdeen and this made her advice very noteworthy indeed as far as i could tell. Naturally she had a good idea of how to help. I am completely serious here – she gave my fish whisky. From a teaspoon as it scudded along near the water surface.
The fish died anyway.
Perhaps if she had used a good single malt rather than a blend it might have had a better chance. It’s hard to know,
Far from warning me of the perils of the demon drink, all I learned from the experience was, as my grandmother remarked, that if you are going to go, you might as well go happy.