(This life event occurred last year, but was too good not to share)
Punky owns a fish names Charlie. He is a beautiful, sparkly metallic brown goldfish who has big ole’ bug eyes. I love him. Perhaps it is hard to believe that one could love a goldfish, but I do. He’s so frickin’ cute with his buggy eyes, plump little body, and swishy tail. When you open the lid to the tank and place your finger on the surface of the water he’ll swim up and give you a little nibble. Now, that may be normal goldfish behavior of which I’m unaware, but I think it makes Charlie special.
Punky has had two other fish, Nemo and Minnie. They’ve both passed on to the Great Sea, but it’s Charlie who holds our hearts. Punky loves him too, although maybe not with the same gusto that I do. I’m not really sure how a fish stole my heart, but he did. And so, when Punky and dear hubby came home with two new fish I was not nearly as enthused as they. They brought home these two tiny little fish that looked a little like bait to me. They are bright orangy-reddish with some black on their sides or tails. They are skinny little things with small, squinty eyes and no fancy tails. I was not impressed. Punky was so excited and announced that the red one (which one is that?) is Scarlett and the orange one (come again?) with the pretty black outlined tail is Sushi. I spit my coffee out, I have to tell you. Sushi? You are naming a fish Sushi? The irony was lost on her, but I got quite a chuckle out of it. After explaining it to her, she became rather sad, saying, ‘I hope Sushi doesn’t die because it’ll be my fault.’ I assured her that if he does die it wouldn’t be her fault. And with a 9 year olds’ intensity she said to me, “Yes, it would be. I named him and he’d be living up to his name!” Who can argue with that logic?
Not being a fish expert I had no idea that it mattered that these two little fish were ‘Molly’ fish. Having a great resource of friends who are knowledgeable on a large variety of topics, I discover from one of these friends, who is a fish expert, that Molly fish: can arrive to your tank locked and loaded, give birth to live fish, and do in fact carry and catch ‘ich’ rather easily. Upon hearing this all I can think is, “What about sweet Charlie?” I further find out that a tank is supposed to be big enough to hold one gallon of water for each inch of fish you have. Charlie’s big and bold and beautiful and comes in at about 2 inches. We have a 2 gallon tank. You can do the math.
My friend explains to me all the problems with our current dilemma and how to solve them. Aquarium salt to prevent the ich, a larger tank to accommodate the two Molly fish, which together equal another inch, and we should be good to go. So we are in the process of gathering and preparing all that needs to be, well, gathered and prepared for the fishes’ big moving day when tragedy strikes! One of the fish isn’t looking so good. She is wedged in, totally of her own doing, behind a rock and her little mouth is just moving – gasp*gasp*gasp. Ut oh, not a good sign. I tell Punky that one of her fish isn’t looking so good as I send up a message to the fish gods that it not be Sushi who is in peril. She runs and looks and then calmly announces that it is Scarlett who is in distress. Damn! Where’s Rhett when you need him?
Sad to say that Scarlett did not make the move to the big house with the others. She was buried at sea on a cold, rainy, wintery night (hubby flushed her). Punky seems fine with the fact that Scarlett is gone. She’s more relieved that Sushi has made the transition to the new home and seems to be settling in to his accommodations. Charlie is as big, bold, and beautiful as ever and he’s still my favorite. Yet, I have to admit I’ve always admired the underdog. The guy who beats the odds and gets out in front, survives his tragic upbringing, or in this case lives ‘down’ his name. Yes, I must admit, for the first time in my entire life I am developing a fondness for Sushi.