Fred was a fish that we had in our aquarium that wasn't especially notable except that he was roughly ten times larger than any of our other fish. So that made him kind of cool.
The other thing that made him interesting (in a horrifying way) was that one day, out of nowhere, Fred started swimming upside down. At first, my sister and I thought, "Hey! That's funny!" Until my dad said, "Looks like Fred's not doing so hot." Then, we knew that the worst was coming for Fred.
We were all prepared for a quick fishy death. We'd seen it many times. Goldfish that you win at the local fair just never seemed to survive for more than a few days at our house. But Fred wasn't giving up. He swam upside down for days. Days turned into weeks. He seemed to have adjusted to this new upside down life. And then he started swimming sideways.
At this point, we had said our goodbyes to Fred a few times already, so he was like that awkward house guest that you tell, "Hey! Just lock the door on your way out today and leave the key under the mat!" and then they are still waiting for you when you get home. Yikes. "It's okay Fred. We can see that you are increasingly distressed from not being able to swim in a normal fish way. You don't have to be brave. Just go into the light."
Eventually, Fred did go into the light. About 15 years later, when I decided to tell this story to a coworker of mine, (because I clearly have a poor understanding of social norms) she told me that you can actually adjust something in the fish's water to make them turn right side up again. Oops. Sorry, Fred.
|This is a terrible photo of our old fish tank, |
but includes Brittany Beason for scale.
Bullwinkle & Cowwinkle
For a few years I had a beautiful Betta fish named Bullwinkle. He wasn't one of our shared family pets, either. He was all mine! I changed his water, fed him, and told him stories. (Okay, you caught me. I ran out of real fish owner responsibilities to name.) He had a good fishy life. Then, one day, he died. Honestly, I was not devastated. I was a little sad for about a minute. A normal amount of sad that one should be when their Betta fish dies. But, I think my father was worried about my reacting poorly, so he immediately asked me if I would like a new Betta fish. Without really evaluating my feelings on the matter, I said yes.
Turns out I didn't really want a new Betta fish. First of all, none of the fish at the pet store were nearly as beautiful as Bullwinkle. And none of them were nearly as lively. Bullwinkle used to swim around so quickly, and he would always go to the top of the water when I gently tapped on the side of his bowl before giving him food. However, I thought I should still pick out a fish, so I did. He was the prettiest of the fish there. I'd give him a B- in Betta attractiveness. I named him Cowwinkle.
Cowwinkle was the most boring fish ever. The only real reason I remember him was that he was a much less exciting version of Bullwinkle. He didn't live as long, and he died in a boring way that isn't even useful to this blog. However, he has the honor of being the last fish I have owned. In his unremarkable life, he taught me that sometimes when an animal dies it doesn't need to be replaced. Or, at least, you should take your time replacing said animal with an equally awesome animal rather than just taking in whichever fish crosses your path next.
I work in an office with a fish tank. The fish are pretty and people like them. Occasionally, there is fish tank drama. I strive to have as little to do with the fish as possible.
I used to be the only person in my office on Saturdays. I worked Saturdays for a year before anyone asked me, "Hey - do you feed the fish on Saturdays?" I responded no, and my coworker was horrified. Maybe that makes me a terrible person, but in roughly 50 Saturdays it had never once crossed my mind to feed the fish. It wasn't even on my radar. However, after feeling rather ashamed of myself for neglecting this responsibility for a year, I decided to make a point of feeding the fish every weekend.
I have had a lot of fish, but I guess I forgot (or never knew) the appropriate amount to feed a tank full of fish in a day. So instead of asking anyone for their opinion or reading the fish food, I decided that two heaping teaspoons worth of food would be enough. What I didn't realize is that you can actually overfeed fish. Luckily, the same coworker who was shocked when I didn't feed the fish for a year also mentioned a few weeks later that she only gives them half a teaspoon. When I revealed how much I had been giving them, I was officially relieved of my weekend fish-feeding duties. And I readopted my former policy of ignoring the fish.
For example, one Saturday when I came in to the office and I was told by a child in the waiting room that there was a dead fish in the tank. And also a plastic spoon. Apparently someone had tried to get the dead fish out of the tank with the plastic spoon, but upon failing to do so had left both the spoon and the fish. I immediately decided that I could have nothing to do with this, and texted my boss to let her know the situation. I was tempted to send her a picture rather than attempting to describe the situation, but decided against it. She handled it quickly the next time she was in the office, and I was glad to have nothing to do with it.
My youngest sister (age 10), much like me, has enjoyed having Betta fish to take care of. At one point, she and my parents were going out of town for vacation, and they asked my older sister to act as a fish-sitter for a week. My older sister happily agreed, and kept "Fishie" at her house so that she could care for it. After all, a short-term fish-sitting gig was about the easiest pet-sitting job that you could ask for in my family.
During the week, my older sister and her husband provided enthusiastic updates about how Fishie was doing, and shared how much they were enjoying their little house guest. Meanwhile, it turned out that my younger sister was not overly attached to Fishie, but she was pleased that he had found a good home with people who clearly loved him. So she decided that rather than picking up her Betta at the end of the vacation, she would generously gift it to her oldest sister. She communicated this by letting my older sister know that she had already gotten a new Betta fish!
Fishie was loved by my oldest sister and her husband until his final day. At one point, I even acted as fish-sitter for them when they went on vacation. But I was sure not to seem too eager in my daily updates about the Betta. I didn't want them to get the wrong idea...