Sunday, January 04, 2009

Fishy Thoughts

Cousin Jill had a post about something cute her short people said about their fish and it got me to reminiscing about our good ol' thirty gal, now long since departed. We got the thing shortly before getting married. The Missus was a fish person and I was getting into it based on her enthusiasm.

Many a happy hour (and dollar) was wasted on that thing. Feeding, medicating, changing water, changing filters, buying fish, buying fish, buying fish. As an electrician I even spent a good deal of time searching for just the right fluorescent tube to accentuate the coloring of our freshwater beauties. It was quite a spectacle to behold when it was in full swing. The impossibly blue background, the lush live plants, turbo snails scouring the walls, and a couple dozen tranquil fish zipping around for my pleasure. I actually would sit in a rocking chair in front of the tank instead of the TV.

After a few years though the constant maintenance had worn me down. The short people needed a fair amount of maintenance themselves and I was losing interest. I'm not sure when exactly, but at some point I ran out of time for them and just stopped paying attention to them at all. I didn't feed them for most of a year and was surprised to find that fewer fish had died in that year than in any other year. Turns out freshwater fish are all algae eaters and they just chomped away at whatever was sprouting in there. ("Hey guys! Check out the salad on top of the castle! Om-nom-nom-nom!")

Miss O was a big fish fan too for a while. We used to have Daddy-Daughter-Dates on Saturdays. She loved to ride in my truck so I'd strap her car seat in and we'd hit all the pet stores to look at fish. Eventually we got her a little ten gallon tank for her room. We decided to make it a chichlid (pronounced SICK-lid) tank because the colors on those guys are amazing.

I thought I was spending money on fish before. HA! Not only are those guys more expensive but they're also super freekin aggressive! It wasn't long beore one had grown to immense size on the virtue of having consumed nearly $100 worth of his tank mates. So we decided to just have the one fish in there and see how that went. Miss O called him Fat Poisson because her grandmother had taught her the French word for fish. Eventually he became Gros Poisson and the whole thing was in French.

Well, one day I came home for lunch and found my darling daughter perched on a chair in her room, feeding the little fella. She had, pinch by pinch, emptied most of the fish food into that tiny little tank. It had formed a pyramid that reached more than half way to the surface of the water! GP was out of his little fishy mind in there. I set her down and proceeded to clean things up. But I didn't have a lot of time and there was no way I was going to move him to the other tank so he could snack on those guys. By the time I got home from work he had kicked the bucket.

And that is all the stories I have about fish. Good night.

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  1. dude love the fish story! I'm prayin for your wifey and the Wee Man. How is numero uno doing w/ the return to school?

  2. Fish smell.
    That is all I have to say about fish.


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