Fish Tales

Quite some time ago when Chef was away for the weekend and Busy and I had been flooded in, well,  when the water subsided- and I blame cabin fever with a toddler, I made a big mistake . We got gold fish. I could not have even imagined the emotional roller coaster that would follow this foolish decision.

I reckon now, after about a year, we are probably up to about fish number 12.

Here is a run down of some of the more memorable moments. Stay with me, this post is not as boring as it may sound...

Orangey1 was the first fish we got. He was highly excitable. I mean seriously wired. He raced around the tank in what appeared to be an amphetamine  induced state. He did not stop. I mean he flew around the tank. And he grew. Like this:

He grew so much he was like a huge dog in a tiny back yard, so we transported him - carefully around to a friends' place with  huge fish tank. Orangey is still alive and is now 20cm long. HUGE.

There have been several that have been and gone since this time. At one point Busy would wake up go over to this fish tank and say " are any of you guys dead today?" She has become pretty good at seeing the signs, " this one isn't moving much today'... yes there are tears, big tears whenever one of them dies. But they are ceremoniously put in the worm farm- much excitement on Busy's behalf and then even more excitingly she  loves to go and check the next day to make sure the worms have "gobbled him all up". We have learnt the word funeral.

The last "round' of fish though have seriously demonstrated the complexities of the common goldfish. We got one last week. It was white with a gold triangle on the top of its head. At the same time we got one of those black ones with the bulgy eyes- you know... like this:

We popped them in the tank with the resident algae eater who has lived in there for months quite happily- totally keeps to himeself and keeps the tank clean by sucking algae off the glass, I don't actually know if it is a boy but whatever.... we call him bottom feeder). That night I saw the white fish eat the back one. Yes eat it. Cannibalism in my house, under my roof. Obviously this was both deeply traumatic and yet absolutely fascinating to us.... Busy noticed that bottom feeder was sucking algae off the black fish, Busy telling me he was kissing  the new fish. Thank  god she went to bed after that. The white fish ate the eyes first. It was wrong. We took the black fish to the worm farm as an act of mercy. It was horrific! Busy awoke the next day and saw that it was gone. Devastation followed. Big fat tears and declarations of love for Blacky.

So the white fish was then known as Killer and Chef and I considered getting a Siamese fighting fish and seeing what happened. Perhaps laying wagers. Sense prevailed. There were discussions at the local pet shop and we learnt that there is a pecking order like with chooks, with fish. So we got two more  and we were assured if they were the same size it would all be fine. Well.

Didn't Killer get his comeuppance. Death was almost immediate and rather... savage. The two new ones and bottom feeder just took Killer out. He didn't stand a chance. He is gone now. Gone to the worms.

So I am left with bottom feeder- hiding in his little rock cave and these two others. One of the them, the ring leader in Killers assassination has taken to jumping out of the water so high that he ( ?)  hits the light the sits over the tank!!! Then he dive bombs the pebbles so aggressively you can hear the pebbles move around from across the room with the TV on. I am scared of him.

I wouldn't be surprised if I came out in the morning and they had fashioned pebbles into swords and were battling. Or reciting Shakespeare. Or crocheting granny squares.