Okay, for you, Carolyn, grinding little guppies in your Insinkerator. But our fish, Bluestar, has been SAVED! His pretty blue fins are unclamped, his I’d-as-soon-kill-you-as-look-at-you personality is back in full force, his appetite…
As you all know, the family and I were prepared to go to extreme lengths to help our little Betta friend heal from the multiple fungal, bacterial and depression issues he appeared to be having. (We change his water regularly, use water conditioner, warm his bowl to the appropriate-for-Bettas temperature, etc., I swear.) Well, after many a run to pet stores and calls to ichthyologists, we found the right combo of treatments. And Bluestar, bless his fishy heart, responded. He even turned to stare at us with what we all agreed was gratitude.
Tim and I high-fived, wiped our tired brows, kissed our relieved and teary daughter, promised not make any more tuna melts lest we inadvertently ingest Bluestar’s cousin (whatever, she’s eight) and got some sleep. And, uh, you know, forgot to feed the little guy.
For a couple of days.
Maybe that wasn’t a look of gratitude.
We finally remembered the meal issue after he began ramming his nose into the glass. This time he looked like he wanted to phone PETA, pronto.
Listen, Mr. Fish, I am menopausal and you are soooo lucky I was able to focus long enough to medicate you. You are not the first family member whose dinner has been a day or two late. Just grab a Snickers like the others and chill.
I just gave him a few Top Fin pellets and am now off to find dried worm things or some other Betta delicacy to express my apologies properly. My husband says we’re too old for any more live things and has asked me to let everything not on two legs die out without seeking its immediate replacement.
We’ll see. We’ll have to wait and see.