The Fish Whisperer

As I wandered through Wally World, aka, The Super Walmart or as the only thing to do in Santa Clarita in the afternoon, I noticed my child admiring the fish in aisle 12. I always take pity on the Bettas trapped in the 1/2 cup of dirty water and of course, want to rescue them all. Today was the day that I determined Olivia would have her first pet. We picked out the fish that looked the least stressed, chose the perfect food and fish treats, grabbed the swimming Elmo bowl decor, and headed to the self-checkout, so as to not to shake the 1/2 cup of water too violently.

Because I have been known to be only slightly semi-cheap, I figured that the bowl, the net, and the glass marbles that I had at home for my last fish, 5 or so years ago, would be perfect to house our new addition. Little did I know that within two days, I would be sneaking out to Petsmart post bedtime hours to purchase a new bowl, new net, new marbles, and new blue fish. My mom recently told me that I am not old enough to have a fish, and I tend to agree.

I have been obsessed. Imagine this. Your two-year old wakes up, pushes her chair over to the counter, and eats breakfast, lunch, and dinner with Fish Blue. Not only does she eat with Fish Blue, but she checks on him at least every hour and continues to ask why Fish Blue is resting at the bottom, yet again. "Night-night fishy," she says and heads to bed, as I poke the poor thing to ensure that it is living. Now, keep in mind that I am an avid animal activist, a vegetarian, dog stopping, cat saving fool that transports the ugliest of insects by cup to a better and more peaceful home in the backyard. Not to mention, how on earth do you tell your fish loving child that you had to flush her first pet down the potty that you so desperately want her to use?

In tears, I sneak off to Petsmart. When I arrive, I speak to idiot number one, who I tell my tale of woe to. She responds, "Did you remember to feed it?" Oh yeah, food. Idiot number two tells me to add a plant and reminds me that if I bring back the dead body with the receipt that they would gladly replace Fish Blue with a fish equal to or up to his value. Why thank you. I will gladly bring my moaning toddler back with the fish carcas for a fish of equal value. Needless to say, I purchased every water conditioner, fish medication, and live plant that I could find to help Fish Blue and his water quality. Oh yeah, I also purchased Fish Blue Number Two, a new bowl, a new net, and new rocks to go at the bottom.

Home, I made my way, with a brief stop at Target for some new Arrowhead water--surely Wally World had somehow poisoned their bottled water. I arranged the new bowl for Fish Blue Number Two and created a "hospital bowl" for Fish Blue Number One. I thought that certainly, or secretly wished, that Fish Blue Number One would pass in the night, but no. He is still here, upstairs, hidden from Olvia's sight, gasping for air and awaiting his fate. It has been one week and two days of misery, but tonight he has eaten. Amen. Tonight, I have also noticed new black spots on his fins, as he gobbled down his worms. Back I will go tomorrow to purchase new medications and bowl salt and will be happy that my Olivia is still too young to recognize that Fish Blue Number One is really Fish Blue Number Two. Hopefully, insanity is not hereditary.