“Daddy! Look!” Tommy rolled off the bass. His dad ran down and picked up the bass. Forgetting how he’d found his son, the smile on his face said all was forgiven. Streams of questions, starting with, “What did you catch him on,” began.

As the two hauled the bass to the cooler. A blue catfish slipped silently back into the depths of the pond. He began making his rounds across the muddy bottom. Poking his nose in crevices and holes in search of lost bits and morsels.

The lady would be down in the morning casting handfuls of feed across the surface and singing the siren’s song BleuCat had grown to love to hear. Though her voice had grown ragged over the last couple years, he knew it wouldn’t be long before she left her human body and joined him in the pond.

It was the one way they could be certain they would always see the future generations of whom they’d been the progenitors. Maybe not the most, or best, chosen form, however as long as the spring flowed freely, it was the safest.