One Fish, Two Fish, Old Fish, New Fish.

A little over three weeks ago, we lost our very awesome Betta Fish, Indy. He was an amazing fish. He would follow our finger around the glass, as if he was targeting his mark like a trained dog. He would jump up out of the water to catch pieces of food, as if he was a hungry Great White Shark. Simply put, he was the best fish I’ve ever had.

We started to notice he was laying on the bottom of the tank, which wasn’t his MO. It was the exact opposite of his normal. He would wave his little fins at us when we’d walk up to the tank as if he was trying to tell us he was still alive, just barely. After about 24hrs of this, we started to notice that he wasn’t even coming up to the top of the tank for air. We would watch him try to swim to the top, but ultimately fall back down without even getting all the way up. It was painful to watch.

We noticed his scales were not laying flat on his body anymore, and that he had taken on the shape of a strange looking pinecone. By this time, it had been about three days since he’d eaten. We lowered the water level in the tank so that he didn’t need to swim up so high, but it continued to be a struggle until he just couldn’t come up anymore.

Constipation, kidney failure, or Dropsy, we’re not sure.

We read about several different things to do to help save him, but after about four days of trying, he finally succumbed to whatever was killing him. I found him at the bottom of the tank when I came home for lunch, and his little fins weren’t moving to greet me. Although I knew it was only a matter of days, it broke my heart and I immediately fell to the ground in tears. I could barely see the numbers on the phone through the tears, but when SS answered the phone, he knew why I was calling. I couldn’t form words, it was just sounds coming out. I could hear him crying on the other end, and that made it so much worse for me.

It took us a couple of weeks to be able to talk about him without crying, and when that happened, we went ahead and got another one. He’s a completely different color, so hoping he brings a different kind of vibe to our home.

Meet Turq.

 

 

Here fishy, fishy, fishy.

Growing up, we always had a fish tank. The sounds were soothing and seem to put me into a relaxation mode only brought on by running water. (Waterfalls do the same? yes. Running sinks and toilets? Not so much.)

When The X and I moved into our first place, one of the first things we had to do was get a fish tank. It was the smallest of the small, but it didn’t matter. I just needed the relaxation.

When RJ was born, I requested we get a larger fish tank. I knew I was about to undergo a huge life changing event, and having a little bit more of something that helped me relax, was never a bad idea. So larger we went.

When The X and I moved from Texas to California, a fish tank was not something we were going to attempt to bring along. Dad had a big 100-gallon tank, and was more than happy to give it to us. Anything to keep his oldest daughter relaxed and not crabby.

It’s been seven years since I’ve been the owner of a fish tank. Seven long years. I don’t have one in this town to visit. I don’t have friends that have them in their house. And I’m not even sure RM#1 would even allow me to entertain the idea of having one in our house. But eventually, I’ll own another one. It’s just who I am. And maybe it’ll be a really cool one. One built into a divider wall. Or built into my bathroom sink or living room coffee table. Who knows? Just maybe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I want

…this beautiful piece of salmon with a garden salad. Mmm.