A Fishy Story

I was cleaning out the fish tank when it happened. The fish jumped out of the net and onto the carpet. Dear Son was sitting in his rocker watching the whole thing.

The fish were a gift to Dear Son for his ninth birthday, shortly after I divorced. I thought he might like a pet and settled on the fish. We had many outdoor pets, so to speak, the animals that came regularly to our bird feeder. We had Blackie, our red winged black bird that was a frequent visitor. He came to the feeder every morning before Dear Son went to school, then would sit on the top of his swing set in the backyard, every day while he was at school. Once Dear Son came home, he’d fly back over to the bird feeder, while Dear Son watched him from the base of our French door, as he lie on the carpet, his head on a pillow, with the cool summer breezes wafting over him and the sound of the aerator, lulling him to sleep. Of course, it didn’t hurt that our lot backed up to a pond, as the red winged black birds are water loving birds, but I called him Dear Son’s bird nonetheless. Then there were Donald and Dolly, our mallard ducks. They came back to our feeder year after year; even the neighbors called them our ducks, since they only fed at our feeder.

But the fish were our first “official” pets as a family. It was a simple fish tank, something I thought I could take care of. Apparently, I never mastered the filtering system very well because I found the fish tank to be a lot of work. We had several fish, all named of course, but the two favorites were Prince Charles and Princess Diana. They were named as such, because of the castle, that resided in the middle of our fish tank. The one fish, would always be outside the castle; I named her Princess Diana. The other fish, would always hide inside the castle, so I named him Prince Charles, because he was always hiding in there and didn’t want to come out.

Now the problem with the fish, came with cleaning the tank. I chose to remove the fish from the tank for a thorough cleaning. I know it’s not necessary but like I said, I just hadn’t mastered this filtering thing. I moved the first fish successfully from the tank when I attempted to remove the second one. The fish jumped high into the air, out of the net and landed on the carpet. Being squeamish as I am, I screamed at the top of my lungs. It was the kind of scream, that you’d expect when you were watching a horror film or saw someone committing a terrible crime. I even scared myself, it was so loud. I attempted several times to get the fish back into the tank, but the problem was that I would have to touch the fish and this was presenting itself as a major problem. There wasn’t any way that I was going to actually “touch” the fish. Dear Son thought this whole episode was hilarious and he proceeded to rock in his chair laughing as hard as he could until he was nearly crying from the laughter. Every time I thought I had the fish with the net, the fish would flop and I would scream. The louder I screamed, the funnier it was. Of course, I was talking all of the time trying to get the fish back into the tank which only added to his amusement. A curse word or two might have slipped out.

Soon the fish was back in the tank but ended up going into the castle. I later learned he died. Some time later, a second fish died after hiding in the castle. I decided I might want to rename the castle the “funeral parlor” since the fish were dying inside there.

Dear Son never really cared for the fish. I think the fish jumping out of the tank was the most fun he had. After these issues with the fish, I decided to get Dear Son a cat.

Somehow, it’s hard to imagine Dear Son had any disabilities that day. I wonder how the psychological tests measure that. Sometimes, labels don’t tell the whole story. And the whole story is often better than reading just the last page. And a whole lot more fun too.