Rethinking A Few Little Somethings
They were long ago relegated to Basement Status, making them the least appreciated of all of the pets around here. The fish who lived in the 55-gallon freshwater aquarium were so unimportant in my eyes that I didn't even write about the middle-of-the-night-had-to-break-into-the-house transport thing that we did when we moved. I mean, who hasn't driven a pick-up truck full of fish and rocks in plastic tubs across town and then hid them in a house they didn't own?
(And THAT, my friends, is why we vehemently declined to do a final walk-through with the realtor before we closed on the house.)
So when an unexplained plague struck the tank and killed all but the two oldest residents, I didn't even blink. In fact, I might have had a little talk with the two survivors about how it would be OK if they just kicked the bucket like everyone else. How the hell does a cory fish live to be nine years old, anyway? It wasn't that I wished ill on any of the fish; it was that it would have been a relief to just tear down the tank until we saved up the money to convert it to a marine environment.
Alas, it wasn't meant to be. Those two fish just keep going and going and going, despite the utter and complete neglect that set in when all of the other fish died. Algae wrapped its way around every surface. A light bulb flickered constantly until it finally burned out. Water evaporated and wasn't replaced, rendering the pumps practically useless. And yet, the fish kept on going on.
A year went by and the tank turned into that thing I couldn't look at. I would avert my eyes every time I walked through the Man Cave, lest I be struck by an urge to drop everything and start scrubbing rocks. I had no desire to return the tank to its former glory days. None at all.
But then Mr. Husband got a wild hare up his butt and suddenly he made the time to scrub and scrub and scrub, to rinse and fill and clean, eventually turning the tank into a sparkly clean home for its two lowly residents. And that, of course, turned into him deciding it was time to replace the fish. Except, this time he swore he would allow Alexis to pick out the fish, instead of filling it with his usual preferred troupe of misfits and meanies (he's a cichlid and oscar sort of guy . . . he enjoys watching ugly fish rip each other to shreds, I guess).
Off to the store we went, Alexis eventually deciding that Mickey Mouse Platys were exactly her speed. Yellow and orange and red and black, several wound up in bags and were carried out to the car. As Alexis settled into her car seat, she begged to hold her new friends. Visions of fish flopping around uncontained on the inside of my new car filled my head, so instead I set them carefully beside her in the back. As Lady Gaga's voice began to fill the air, Alexis grinned and began to dance in her seat.
Alexis glanced down at her new fishy friends as she shook her money maker. "Dance, fishies, dance!" she told them. She began to giggle with glee as a bump in the road made it appear that they were heeding her command. All the way home she talked to the fish in the bags.
Once we returned to the house, Mr. Husband began floating the bags in the tank. Alexis stood close by, watching with wide-eyed pleasure. "Welcome home, fishies!" she said before beginning to name each and every one.
Not that the fish in the freshwater tank are important. To me.
The apparently are to Alexis.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Reader Comments (7)
Did he get any Vaginafish?
@Gina--I think Alexis may need to name one of the fish "Vagina." I'll work on that. Heh.
i find large fish tanks incredibly relaxing to watch...they are so full of life and movement, even if only a few fish live there. so yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay, for more fish!!
I'll back you up on the lifespan and general indestructability of the cory catfish. I had a couple aquariums when I was in Jr HIgh... heck, I was obsessed with them. I spent all of my allowance money on fish and new stuff for the tanks.
Anyway, I was having trouble adjusting the tank heater and thought I had it right after fiddling with it for a while. We then left on a week's vacation. (I used one of those auto-feeding dissolving things...) When I got back, I found that I had the heater cranked waaaaay up... the water felt like bath water... all the fish were boiled to death... all except the spotted cory, who was still rambling around the bottom looking for stuff to eat.
You can't kill those things, I swear.
I don't have the patience to be a fish tank person, but they are so lovely to be around... I guess that translates to: I relate to you and envy you all at once.
We all have our crosses to bear. *sigh*
;)
Oh well, at least it's a colorful bane of your existence.
If you promise not to tell my husband, I will let you in on two little secrets: (1) I am shocked that he has kept our little neon fish alive since Christmas and (2) I actually like those little buggers and I enjoy watching them swim around. Saltwater is many, many moons away, but I refuse to give him even an inkling of suspicion that I wouldn't mind a bigger freshwater tank. Go Alexis for putting a little life and color into the Man Cave!