Oswald The Goldfish Has Died, Mourning Lack of Beer, July 22, 1919

From The Monroe Journal, July 22, 1919

An Obituary

By Luke McLuke

Oswald Fish is dead. Oswald was merely a goldfish, but he was Luke’s friend and companion. For nine years he swam around in a large bowl and kept us in a good humor by his antics. He was the last of a family of 10. All of his brothers and sisters died off some seven years ago, and Oswald lived alone. He wasn’t a fancy goldfish. He was about half sucker minnow and half sardine, but he was a cheerful cuss, a boon companion and a faithful friend. He never complained until the last, and took things as they came like a real optimist. Prohibition killed Oswald. One day, some six years ago, Luke accidentally slopped a beer out of a glass was standing over Oswald’s bowl. Oswald dashed up to the surface and tasted the beer. He sucked up every drop he could find and hunted eagerly for more. We gave him a little more. Oswald drank it. Then he pulled off a three-ring circus all by himself. He looped the loop, stood on his head, stood on his tail and three triple somersalts. Every day after that we saw that Oswald received his daily ration of beer. And Oswald displayed his gratitude by pulling off his three-ring circus. But Prohibition put an end to beer, and two weeks ago we gave Oswald his last drink. Every day since he has tried to attract our attention so that we would give him his beer, but we had none to give. Poor Oswald sulked at the bottom of the bowl for days at a time and would not be comforted. He would not eat, he would not drink water. Yesterday morning we found him dead. The water in the bowl had turned to salt. He had wept so much that his tears turned the water into brine and thus caused his death. He died of thirst.