Suicide Fish

It was only a week ago. The family went to the school carnival. The cafeteria was packed, it was busy and loud and everything a carnival should be. I was cringing on the inside, as crowds make me tense. But the boys were in heaven. All day we weren't sure if we would make it, sweetP had not been feeling well. But he really wanted to go, so much that he took a nap in the afternoon.

All around the perimeter there were games, there were more games down the hallways and out into the gym. I never made it to the gym [bummer ;)]. Ring Toss, Fishing, Balloon Darts, Duck Pond, all kinds of games. And food, pretzels, nachos, cotton candy, pizza, and so much more.

We each took a boy and off we went. Ducky and sweetP took off to play games, sweetE and I mostly hung out and waited in the cotton candy line. Ducky and sweetP played the gold fish game and wouldn't you know, they won a goldfish. I have never in my life successfully gotten the ping pong ball in the fish bowl. At the end of the night, we claimed our loot. One goldfish, four-two liters of Coke, one ring pop, an LED fan and two poppers.

We didn't think it would be a good idea to put the little goldfish in with our big goldfish, he has a history of eating fins and snails. Didn't seem like a nice welcoming gesture to get eaten. So Ducky put him in a cereal bowl on the kitchen counter. The plan was to get him a bowl of his in the morning. All the boys went to bed and I had the house to myself.

It is eleven o'clock and the house is quiet. I am going through the regular night time routine of locking up the house and taking my medicine. While getting into the dishwasher to get a glass, I notice something on the floor. I see the suicide fish. The fish has leapt out of his bowl, gone across the kitchen counter and landed on the floor. I cannot leave him there, and it would be better if the boys find him belly up in his bowl rather than the floor. That and I don't want to deal with the potential consequences should Velcro decide to eat him.

So I peel him off the floor, he had started to stick. And unceremoniously slipped him back into the water. Wash hands and get on with going to bed. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his gills move. Suicide fish is alive! Did I mention he was stuck to the floor, he had been there for a while. So now, instead of going to bed, I am cheering on a goldfish. "Breathe fishy, breathe. Come on little fishy, you can do it." Once his breathing seemed to be going okay, I moved on to swimming. "Come on little fishy, swim, swim, swim." Poor guy's little fin was injured when I peeled him off the floor. He could only swim backwards. I went up to get him a fish flake to help entice him to swim. Not that I eat when I don't feel great, but it was worth a shot.

I left him to recover and decided it was time to get into bed. But only after covering his bowl with plastic wrap (with little holes cut into it) just in case he got any more crazy ideas of escape.

The next morning he was still alive. Nothing short of a miracle. So while I took sweetE to a birthday party, Ducky and sweetP went to get him a bowl. He was in his new home and seemed to be swimming better. He had been named "Sparky Sparky Doom Fish."

The next morning he was dead. Poor fish never really had a chance. Sloshing home, new environment, jumping out, another new environment. He certainly lived up to the Doom part of his name.

We cleaned his tank, filled it up and headed to the pet store. We came home with Darty the Betta. Darty is doing just fine and enjoys his new tank immensely.