OK, so get a load of this one:
My wife takes the kids to a fair this past Saturday while I’m home pretending I know how to do home-improvement projects (and I should probably end this story right now, because if my intention here is to be funny, there’s nothing funnier than me pretending I know how to do home-improvement projects) … and, upon their return, both kids come running in, each one holding a plastic bag containing a goldfish.
“Can we keep them, Daddy? Can we? Mommy said it was up to you!”
“Oh, she did, huh?” I said as I stepped outside to ask Mommy what the fuck she was thinking. And there she was, unloading from her car a new fish tank and various fish-having supplies.
“You’re kidding, right?” I asked her. “You just brought the kids home with live fish, a new fish tank, and all this other shit, but it’s up to me whether or not they can keep them? Yeah, that’s what I’ll do: I’ll tell them they can’t keep the fish, and have you take everything back. And after that, I’ll make them watch me club some baby seals to death and throw some puppies in a river so they can see what it looks like when baby dogs drown. Sound good?”
My wife proceeded to tell me a tale in which Zan asked if he could play a game at the fair, and it wasn’t clear what the prize was, but when he won, the douche canoe running the game went over to a barrel and pulled out a pair of live goldfish for the kids.
Now, truth be told, we had been talking for some time about getting a fish tank, so I wasn’t all that flummoxed about the fish situation. I just thought that the whole “It’s up to you if they can keep them” thing was preposterous, given the circumstances. That’s like going for a family roadtrip, falling asleep in the passenger seat, waking up in front of Disneyworld and seeing your kids wearing those friggin’ mouse ears, and your wife holding four all-day tickets and saying to you, “But I told the kids we can’t stay unless you say it’s alright!”
So, of course, who ends up preparing the tank and all the accoutrements? Yes, me. And I was worried the fish weren’t going to make it, because you’re supposed to let the tank stabilize for 24 to 48 hours prior to adding fish, but those fuckers had been trapped in little plastic bags for god knows how long, and the pet shop dude supposedly told my wife it was OK to add them right away, so that’s what we did.
And damned if they didn’t take to the tank just fine. They were all swimmy and active and happy, and yay for our new fish friends! And every day, right through yesterday, I kept saying to the kids — whom I had initially warned that the fish might not survive the shock of being placed in a tank full of tapwater — “Wow, guys, looks like the fish are doing great, huh?”
But this morning, when I got out of the shower and opened the bathroom door, there was Jayna.
“Daddy, Michaela died.”
“Your fish died? Oh no, baby, I’m so sorry.”
And she seemed to be taking it OK, but I’m the biggest sap you’ll ever meet in your entire life, so I felt a little bit of heartbreak, both for her, and for the sudden death of our new family member.
But, OK, at least Zan’s little dude seemed to be doing fine … and when I returned home from work, he was still swimming his little fishy heart out, and looking good.
And then, just after the kids went to bed, I glanced over at the tank and saw what you see in the photo above.
Fuck.
Now, don’t laugh, but, truth be told, I actually felt a little twinge of sadness … mostly for my kids, but also because I kinda liked our new fish.
And what have we learned from this, class? We’ve learned that I plan to never own a dog, because I’m far too emotionally fragile. It was hard enough to say goodbye to my K-9 partner when I got out of the army (especially because, unlike my other army buddies, he didn’t know I was saying goodbye to him); no fucking way am I going to set myself up to deal with the death of a beloved dog who was part of our lives for 10 or 15 years. Thanks anyway.
But we’ll be getting some new fish soon. I mean, might as well; the damn tank’s all set up now.
Our 12″ oscar ciclid has been with us for 10 years now (he was only about 1″ long when we bought him). When he jumped out of the tank today and stunned himself on the kids’ toy piano, I thought that was it for him. Fortunately, however, the fact that he stunned himself helped him conserve his resources long enough for me to run around screaming – and also find a towel with which I could lift his icky body and put him back into the tank. He’s fine. And we’ve taped the lid. Best of luck with your fish friends!
About 20 years ago the little girl next store kept having her fish die off. And she’d bury them in a patch of dirt that was between our driveways and then make little tombstones out of aluminum foil. All that glinting sorrow. They also lost 4 (!) cats in the course of a year and I still remember her asking me one day “How come your cat never dies?” Yeah, that was a tough one to answer.
You were screwed to begin with, quite honestly. It is true that you need at least 1 day before you put a fish then and then only hearty fish. The recommended wait time is more like 1-2 weeks because that is how long the nitrogen cycle takes. Before you put new fish in, I would recommend a partial water change since you have had dead fish in there AND test your water to make sure the levels are livable.
I used to work at Petco and they provided extensive training so if you have one near you, they should have the training needed to help, free pamphlets explaining everything, and free water changes. No advertisement at all; I’m not connected with them at all anymore 🙂
I hope this helps. Good luck!
The woman at the fish store “supposedly” said to go ahead and put them? She said “Definitely” after we neutralize the chlorine with the magic light blue fluid…which we did. Just sayin…
But thanks for the tip on how to finally get our asses to Disneyworld!
I never doubted you for a moment, dear … but I don’t think we should trust that pet store again. 😉
I remember your K-9 story from M3. I think it was one of 3 or 4 stories you recycled every time you met someone new. I remember thinking, “Holy shit, I need to make some new friends so I don’t have to hear Jon talk about Mom 2.0 again or tell another story about being in the Army in Nowhere, California.” But I never did.
Regarding fish: my college roommie killed several schools of fish while trying to learn how to maintain an ecosystem in a fraternity house. Dumb ass. I worry about his kids and dog every day.
Don’t lie, bitch. You hung on my every word.
I must be an evil person. I scrolled down…and the fish slowly moved up the screen…and I laughed at its poor little dead face. What is WRONG with me?
I have to say, Michaela is an awesome name for a goldfish.
Handy tip: Buy a TON of neon tetras. That way when one dies you can scoop him out and flush him and your kids will be non the wiser. We’ve had quite a few incarnations of Paper and Scissors in our household…not that the 5yo knows that…
Dude? Buy feeder fish. They’re like 8 for a dollar and they freaking live forever. Just sayin’
Three weeks ago, we got a tank. We also got a betta fish. Then the nice man (read: the idiotic mothereffing moron) at the pet store told us that a guppy and a dwarf frog would be good company for the betta. Thrilled to have A Diverse Community of Pets, we went along with his advice.
Today, I write to you next to a tank that contains only a dwarf frog, who, for the record, has not moved more than an inch since Wednesday. I’d like to think he’s grieving for his lost Betta and guppy friends, but I think instead he’s just dying a slow, horrible death. GOD I HATE PETS
Fish….The Disposal Pet.
I killed Eeny and Meeny, the Siamese Fighting Fish when I thought they could spend the winter in a house that I kept at 66 degrees in the winter.
You have all the fish stuff, you might as well get more fish.
And this??? This is why we don’t have pets.
Glad to see you blogging again. I wasn’t sure how long it would be. Hope your hearts and your family are healing.
Goldfish are like the lottery – you never know when you’re going to get a good one. I had two “fair fish” that jumped ship out of their little DYED blue water cups the first night I had them (found them in the window frame in the morning – maybe they saw the light, rather the sun and tried to swim to it/jump to it? I have no idea), and I had them through a move and up until I left for the Navy at 18. They were huge and hearty at that point, but it only took my mom a week to kill them after I left for bootcamp.
When I was just graduated from college and living in the obligatory first god-awful apartment, we weren’t allowed to have dogs or cats, but nobody said we couldn’t have fish. So I went to the pet store and bought four goldfish. The goldfish guy said to keep them in the water he’d provided, which I dutifully did. What he didn’t say was
not to put them and their water into certain kinds of containers.
So I got them home and decided they might be happier to have more room while I went out shopping for all the tank, etc. So I put them AND THEIR WATER into a pan on the kitchen counter. They seemed fine, happy to have a little fin room, and they had plenty of surface area for the water to be oxygenated in/with/from.
Imagine my surprise when I returned about an hour later and found three of them dead on the floor, having apparently committed suicide. As I was standing there trying to figure out what happened, I heard SPLOOP! and fish #4 joined his friends, jumping onto the floor. I gingerly picked him up and put him back into the water but he died shortly after.
All I can think is it was something about the container I put them in, unless the water they were in when I bought them was bad.
If it makes you feel better, my mother spent an entire day sobbing over one of my fish when I was younger. She was heart broken that the fish had died and just couldn’t figure out how to tell her little girl (then teenager) about it. She was even more hearbroken when I looked at her, said “it’s JUST a fish Mom,” (as only a teen can) and proceed to flush the fish down the toilet. See, you did better, no sobbing all day!
We’ve had a goldfish that my daughter won at her school fair for six years. He will not die. He excaped one day, and my husband peeled him off of the floor, stuck him back in his bowl to discard and the damn thing started swimming! Maybe me writing this will contribute to his demise. Karma, baby!
Ya know… it’s not uncommon for Mom’s to randomly find (*cough adopt/buy) adorable, well bred, trainable dogs and puppies while out doing activities or running errands with the kids. In these cases there’s no choice but to “rescue” them and bring them home. It happens more than you’d think… in fact I suspect it will happen to our household again in approximately 5-6 years 😉 You never know when WW and the kids might stumble across an AKC registered Labrador or German Shepherd pup on the side of the road who just happens to have all of it’s shots and vaccinations… crazier things have happened!
If it should happen that your hypothetical scenario becomes reality, I’m sending the dog to YOU!
Ahh fish. When my kids’ Betas died because Daddy K decided to that 58 degrees was a good temp for the house while we were on vacation for a week (they were fed) – it was horrible.
My son has a ban on fish sticks in solidarity for their departed brethren.
I think goldfish are always a problem. When my son was young, we went through several goldfish, hermit crabs, etc., before we felt our lives were settled enough to add a puppy to our family. On the way home from picking her up, my son said quietly, mostly to himself: “Finally, a pet that won’t die”
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