I am a horrible person . . .

So, I have a betta fish.
My parents bought him for me as a prize for losing 10 pounds. (My choice of prize.)
I named him Tikitikitembonosorembocheriberibuchipipberipembo.
Pembo for short.
I clean his tank once or twice a week, right?
No mishaps so far, right?
HA.
WRONG.
Today I almost murdered him by boiling him alive.
Bettas like warm water.
I washed his tank in hot water in an effort to kill germs.
So far, so good.
I put the solution in the water that makes bettas happy.
Still 10-4.
Then . . .
I was making lunch at the same time and forgot how hot the water was.
I went ahead and plopped him in.
He seemed to be enjoying it.
I turn around not a minute later and there he is . . .
. . . floating belly up.
Needless to say, I freaked out.
I'm rather attached to that little guy . . . my younger brother makes fun of me for talking to the fish.
I just think it would be rude not to. I mean, he is, like, right there the whole time . . .
I scooped him out and dropped him into some cooler water, and the poor guy looked like he was panting.
I felt like a horrible person.
He did perk up later . . .
And I think he's forgiven me forgotten about it, so all's good.