One Fish, Two Fish... nope, just one fish

The Husband found the fish on the floor about 5am yesterday.
Tossed him back in the bowl.

To clarify for you racial profilers who immediately point fingers at our cat, the bowl is on a shelf too high for the cat to jump to and too square and narrow for the cat to fit on without knocking several things down... therefore giving away his actions. 
The cat is not scooping fish out of the bowl.
The fish are jumping (or being pushed!).

I checked on the jumper just before I left for work at 8:30am, and the little guy was resting at the bottom of the bowl.  When I tapped the glass, he swam backwards for a lap or two, then slowly settled to the bottom of the bowl again.  Not good.

By the time Younger Son went to change the water at bedtime, the fish was dead.
We held yet another fishy funeral.

One fish left of the five original fish the boy brought home from a carnival several summers ago.
This last fish has a longer, angel-wing-like tail, and has always been Younger Son's favorite.

Its name is now Guilty.