Fish Tales

So we're revisiting the whole "pet situation" (because I stalled and waffled and procrastinated and made excuses for as long as I could, but eventually my grace period ran out) and it turns out that Riley would be totally content with...(drum roll) a fish. Whew! Nothing complicated to set up, or expensive, or difficult to maintain...just a simple little fishie. How hard could that be, right? Everyone has memories of winning a goldfish at the local carnival, proudly toting it home in a bag, and gaining an instant pet. Oh yeah...I almost forgot that those "beloved companions" tended to suffer from an extremely short life span...about 3 days from "welcome to the family" to "unceremonious exit via toilet bowl" as I recall (or "backyard funeral", for the more sentimental...or classier...among us).

Nevertheless, we approached impending fish-ownership with great anticipation and high hopes. First we made an initial recon trip to PetSmart to scope out the options. After chatting with the knowledgeable employees, and educating ourselves a bit about tropical fish...we firmly decided NOT to go that route. Heaters and special aquarium lights and whatnot--no thanks! A nice, low-maintenance betta seemed a much better choice. (Heck, you can't even get two of them--they'll fight each other to the death!) But before committing to anything, we returned home to complete the very crucial next step: research! (Yay! Just call us the Nature Nerd Squad!) We combed the internet for information on bettas' preferred living conditions (besides the obvious "solitary"), nutrition, and care. We (okay, "I") printed the most legitimate-sounding articles, highlighted the important points (not kidding about that), and finally felt prepared to make the leap into actually establishing our betta habitat (which sounds much fancier and more involved than "fishbowl").

Back to PetSmart we went, armed with all of our newfound facts, and feeling confident. Riley quickly chose a small tank (2.5 gallons), some gravel for the bottom (plain black--for the fish with sophisticated, understated taste, apparently), and one decoration. (A ceramic turtle...so the solo inhabitant doesn't feel lonely? I don't know what the rationale was, there...) Then we snagged a clerk to ask some vital questions: are plants recommended? (Yes, and they like bamboo. Got it: two stalks, please.) Is it advisable and/or safe to have a snail in the tank, to help filter the water? (Yes and yes. Add one Ivory Snail to the tally.) Food flakes, water conditioner...have we forgotten anything? Oops, the FISH! Riley selected a red one, whom he immediately dubbed "Neptune", and our fishing expedition was complete!

Back home, we followed the detailed instructions for preparing the tank, which mostly advises allowing the water to sit for 24-hours before you plop the fish in and shock its fragile little system. In the meantime, we had fun arranging the rest of the decor. And since we were told the snail wouldn't mind tap water at all, we went ahead and slid him into his new digs right away. (It crawled up the wall to a spot near the waterline...and parked. This appears to be a permanent situation, but if he's happy, so be it.) When Riley arrived home from school the next day, we planned to ceremonially introduce Neptune to his ph-neutral, water-creature-supportive environment. Hmm...I suddenly noticed a potential problem as I glanced at the very small cup he was currently swimming in...how exactly to effect the transfer? I certainly didn't want to add the by-now-filthy water he came in to his fresh clean tank...but I lacked a small enough net to dip him out of it. After a few minutes of intense brainstorming, I decided to try a very technical, delicate procedure...using a wooden spoon from the kitchen. Well, you can just imagine how smoothly that went, yes? Oh, he got scooped up into my makeshift fish-relocation-device just fine...and then took an energetic flip-flop right onto Riley's dresser.

So to review: fish out of water, Mom standing by on alert wielding her spoon (staring quizzically at the blasted betta, wondering frantically what to do, but remaining remarkably calm on the outside, so as to refrain from alarming her sensitive son), Riley beginning to cry in despair behind me, certain that his new pet had met its untimely demise already, at the hand of his well-meaning but inept parent. (Yeah, "Mommy Fish Killer"--who needs that on their Parental Resume, as fodder for their child's future therapy sessions?) But not to worry--since I'd actually had the foresight (read: "dumb luck") to bring TWO spoons upstairs, I managed to gently slide the wayward creature onto my "sling" and drop his fishy butt into the tank where he belonged. Aquatic Crisis averted. Then we were able to relax and enjoy watching him glide around his watery home, checking out the scene, darting around the turtle statue, glaring at the snail (or that may just have been my interpretation). He appeared for all intents and purposes to be happy and well-adjusted...for a fish. (What do I know, I'm clearly not the Fish Whisperer...but we'll just go with it, yeah?)

But wait: we're not done with the melodrama just yet. Riley, feeling protective and nurturing toward the little guy who was now his responsibility, wanted to get started on a daily care routine. In a word: food. So he gently sprinkled a few flakes into the water and stood by...while Neptune completely ignored it. Eventually the soggy pieces sunk to the bottom and Riley became distraught. "He's not eating! He's going to DIE! I should never have gotten a fish! Let's give him to someone who can take better care of him!" (I am not exaggerating any of this--the boy can pitch a heck of a fit when motivated.) I did what I always do--tried to talk him off the Hysteria Ledge and back into Reasonable Land by suggesting that the fish is still acclimating to his new situation, or he's simply not hungry right now, or perhaps he doesn't care for the brand of freeze-dried...gunk....we bought and we can try a different variety, blah blah blah. (This all sounds quite logical and intelligent, right? I have no earthly clue why the silly thing won't eat, either, I'm just making stuff up as I go along...shhh!) I don't think I entirely convinced him, but if Neptune is alive in the morning I'll call that a "win" and we'll move on from there.

And this is the "easy, no fuss" pet we settled on--jeesh! On second thought, maybe it's just my precious child who's high-strung. (I could try giving BOTH of them different food...or sedatives...) Stay tuned for the continuing saga of A Boy and His Betta!