My fish died this morning, so the week is off to a less-than-ideal start.
Ziggy the Space Goblin, Betta of the Damned, came to us about six months ago with strange coloration and gimpy pectoral fins he couldn't straighten; he always looked like he was swimming around with his hands jammed into the pockets on a hoodie. I mean, if he had hands. Or wore hoodies. It's hard to describe. But he had a sweet face and a cheerful disposition, and he was always happy to see me - assuming I brought food and not a tank cleaning. (Every tank cleaning was cause for a Tiny Aquatic Drama Queen snit, I swear.)
He was my gimpy little fish, and I liked him a lot. I hate to see him go.
Anyway. I think that's going to be the last of my aquarium-keeping for awhile. Ziggy was piscine #4, and it feels a bit like a downward spiral. The first betta, Howard, lived about three years ... but the subsequent two (Merrimack [aka "Ginny"] and Tesla Rex) lived barely a year apiece. They're such lovely animals - so pretty, so personable; but when they begin to go downhill, it's hard to watch. There's virtually nothing you can do for them.
So ... yeah.
I've already talked to my friend Nova, who will take over the tank and all its accouterments before terribly long - because she wants to give betta fish a go, and I don't want to throw out all this perfectly good fish stuff.* But for me, for now, it ends here.
May Ziggy's digs one day become a happy home for some other small swimmer.
* And seriously, it's ridiculous how much stuff I have to go with a $4 fish. Tank, heater, food, water dechlorinator, aquarium salt, a whole vast assortment of holey rocks and resin figurines, etc. etc. etc. (And yes, I'm cleaning everything with a little bleach.) I always said it was like having a wet dollhouse, and I wasn't kidding.
Ziggy the Space Goblin, Betta of the Damned, came to us about six months ago with strange coloration and gimpy pectoral fins he couldn't straighten; he always looked like he was swimming around with his hands jammed into the pockets on a hoodie. I mean, if he had hands. Or wore hoodies. It's hard to describe. But he had a sweet face and a cheerful disposition, and he was always happy to see me - assuming I brought food and not a tank cleaning. (Every tank cleaning was cause for a Tiny Aquatic Drama Queen snit, I swear.)
He was my gimpy little fish, and I liked him a lot. I hate to see him go.
Anyway. I think that's going to be the last of my aquarium-keeping for awhile. Ziggy was piscine #4, and it feels a bit like a downward spiral. The first betta, Howard, lived about three years ... but the subsequent two (Merrimack [aka "Ginny"] and Tesla Rex) lived barely a year apiece. They're such lovely animals - so pretty, so personable; but when they begin to go downhill, it's hard to watch. There's virtually nothing you can do for them.
So ... yeah.
I've already talked to my friend Nova, who will take over the tank and all its accouterments before terribly long - because she wants to give betta fish a go, and I don't want to throw out all this perfectly good fish stuff.* But for me, for now, it ends here.
May Ziggy's digs one day become a happy home for some other small swimmer.
* And seriously, it's ridiculous how much stuff I have to go with a $4 fish. Tank, heater, food, water dechlorinator, aquarium salt, a whole vast assortment of holey rocks and resin figurines, etc. etc. etc. (And yes, I'm cleaning everything with a little bleach.) I always said it was like having a wet dollhouse, and I wasn't kidding.
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