Penwen
Penwen was thoughtful.
He’d heard that numbers of dolphins
had washed up dead
with pieces of plastic in their bellies.
And not the ubiquitous micro
but chunks,
big chunks.
He shook his head and pursed his lips.
He knew that dolphins were mammals
and that mammals were said to be
the most intelligent of sea creatures,
yet they ate plastic!
He shook his head and pursed his lips.
Sometimes plastic bits had been blown into his pond
and he’d tested them for food worthiness
and spat them straight out,
so tasteless and with a tough unpleasant texture.
He’d rather eat raspberries,
well, perhaps not raspberries,
but fish food,
yes, he’d rather eat fish food.
He wouldn’t let his human friends know
that this was an option though.
He was concerned about Brexit
and wanted to make sure that
their stockpile of chocolate biscuits
was adequate to see him through.
When they gave him a luscious big piece
he always gave them a big wet kiss in return.
They seemed to like it
and really it was no trouble,
they were so sweet.
They’d told him that he was very old
and that the oldest goldfish
had lived for forty four years.
He shook his head and pursed his lips.
He didn’t think he was quite there yet,
but one thing he knew for certain,
when he did eventually sink into
the big pond in the sky,
no post-mortem would reveal
plastic pieces in his belly.
