Fish Tales

• Posted on 23rd July 2015
• in Uncategorized
• by Ashleigh

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This week we suffered a major loss in our household. “Trixie”, my oldest daughter’s pet beta fish died after 2 long and pretty impressive years with us. Trixie came into our house one day when my dear husband decided to give me a break from responsibilities one afternoon by taking the girls out to run some errands, and ended up coming back with this additional responsibility. The irony is real. As soon as they brought her home; all excited and smitten over the new pet, I knew Fish Death Day would come. I just assumed it would be the next day, and not two years later, or after enough time to build an emotional attachment.

Either way. Trixie finally kicked the chum bucket.

I knew for a couple days before I eventually told Kyleigh. Not so much because I was trying to think of a way to softly break the news to her and busy researching an age appropriate manner to explain death and dying to a 4-year-old; nope, I’m not that kind of a mom. I hadn’t told her because I was trying to find a good time get down to the pet store to find a good replacement for Trixie and do a little fish-switch before she was any wiser. Unfortunately before my master plan came to fruition, I noticed something smeared on the outside of Trixie’s tank. Upon further inspection, I realize it was in fact Vick’s Vapor Rub. Good news: Trixie is no longer congested Bad news: He’s also no longer breathing… At all.

Trixie didn’t pass away from old age. Trixie was inadvertently fish-slaughtered by my youngest daughter. This sucks. This really f*ing sucks. Now there goes my plan of fish swapping because I can’t just stick another fish in that homeopathic death chamber. I’m actually going to have to balls up and tell Kyleigh what really happened. Shit. SHIT.

So, I tell her, and it was the worst. Her hands were trembling, and she was almost crying. It was so incredibly heartbreaking that I did the only think I knew to do in that moment and promised her new fish (plural) ASAP. She had always been very worried about Trixie being lonely and needing a friend; but didn’t understand that being a beta fish, Trixie would have mauled his “friend” to death quicker than a New Jersey Housewife at a dinner party. So two fish it is. One to replace Trixie, and one to assuage the feelings of betrayal one must have when their little sister kills their beloved pet.

Right after their nap I went to the pet store to buy a new upgraded tank with a filter, heater, and what not to be able to house at least 2 fish. We get there, and they have signs up saying they are updating their fish habitats so they have no actual fish in the store right now. That’s fine because fish people are crazy, and I know they will give me shit about buying fish to put in a not already established tank that hasn’t been set up for a week or whatever. They also don’t have to live with a 4-year-old whose little sister just killed her fish. I was prepared to tell them that story and remind them that they also sell fish for the sole purpose of being fed to other animals so they could kindly take my Visa card and shove it.

But this actually worked out better. Now I could drive across town and lie to the crazy fish lady at the other pet store and tell her that the two (ended up being talked into 3 because they’re “schooling” fish) fish were in fact going into a well-established tank that had been shit in by enough fish to create a substantial ecosystem, and not one that was actually in my trunk in the parking lot. Score!

The whole time I’m lying to lispy fish Nazi, I’m watching one guppy munch on this other guppy’s still attached piece of poo and thinking to myself “Maybe these guys would really benefit from a tank full of fresh room temperature not crapped in city water, and I’m not going to pet owner hell after all”.  I still grabbed a bottle of water conditioner just to be safe.

This crazy fish lady couldn’t believe Trixie lasted two years. She went on to tell me about how they’re 4 years old when they get them at the store “because that’s when their fins are full grown”. She wanted to know how big his tank was.

“5 gallons.”

Blatant lie. It was some crappy 1/2 gallon one like the kind you bring hermit crabs home in. The one in my trunk was 5 gallons, but I couldn’t tell her that.

“Oh! That’s a nice size for a beta! That’s probably why he lived so long!”

If this lady knew that I found Trixie the poor victim of kitty assaults; half-dead on the floor 3 times over the course of the last 2 years, she wouldn’t have sold me a damned cricket.

I was finally able to get my deceptive purchases out the door and home into their new clean habitat. Kyleigh is happy with her new friends. Pj has been the recipient of a couple different talks about how we don’t do anything but LOOK at the fish.

I guess the only thing I learned here was: It’s sometimes difficult being honest with your kids, but not as difficult as it is being honest with crazy pet store fish people. You can’t please everyone so, pick your battles. -A