My aquarist rant

and you taught him that trick so quickly....
 
I think this is going to be a lot of fun, and we will probably learn something along the way too.
 
In the beginning...

I won a goldfish at the Contra Costa county fair when I was 8 years old by throwing a ring, with an amazing amount of skill, around the neck of a coke bottle. With an equal amount of expertise, I went home (after mom had stopped at the five and dime to buy a bowl and some goldfish food) and unceremoniously plopped Mr. Goldfinger into his bowl. I filled the bowl to the top from the kitchen tap and set it on the desk in my bedroom. I was absolutely enthralled. As I sat mesmerized by my new best friend, I noticed the way his mouth moved rhythmically along the bottom and it soon dawned on me (I, at the time, being a very bright boy...or so I was told) that Mr. Goldfinger was hungry. I promptly tore the entire top off of the small cardboard box of goldfish food and, still very bright, dumped about half the box on top of my new best friend. As the cloud arose around him the first of the misgivings insinuated itself into a primitive recess of my brain. It quickly dispelled as my new best friend dove face-first into the 1/2" layer of supper settling to the bottom of his new home.

An hour later, after being called in by mom from playing in the back yard (time to bathe and get ready for bed) I ran straight to my room to look in on my new best friend. He was doing the same thing my puppy did after a large meal; sleeping peacefully on his back.

More to follow...

Mark

After bathing, scrubbed clean...ish, I was careful not to disturb Mr. Goldfinger's slumber as I crawled into bed. Mom came in to kiss me goodnight with scarcely a glance at the latest addition to our family. I lay there with thoughts of coming adventures with my new best friend swirling through my mind. I envisioned walks together; me carrying his bowl as I triumphantly displayed him to friends and neighbors. I'd take him to the school for Show and Tell, beaming as my classmates ooh'd and ahh'd appropriately. They'd forget all about Carla Britmore's hamster then! Why, I could even take him swimming with me at Contra Costa County College's public pool!

Just then, Charlie Brown, my 7-month-old beagle pup, jumped up to the foot of the bed, padded two circles and dropped to his accustomed position. He chuffed as he tucked his nose under tail, oblivious to the fact that his best friend status had been supplanted by whatever that thing was in the bowl on his boy's desk.


The next day was Sunday, mom and dad's sleep-in day. I had learned that when I awoke before them on Sundays to keep any activities quiet as evidently it was important for adults to indulge in this weekly ritual. I silently walked Charlie Brown to the back door and let him out into the back yard so he could do his morning doggie business. He'd learned not to make messes in the house but it was important to let him out first thing in the morning so as not to strain his self control and incur mom's wrath.

I hurried back to my room to say good morning to Mr. Goldfinger only to find that apparently the Sunday morning sleep-in protocol applied to fish. He was in the same position as when I went to bed! As I looked down into his bowl there was a distinct odor wafting up and the water was slightly cloudy. For the second time in as many days a vague unrest tiptoed into my consciousness. I stretched a tentative index finger towards him.
 
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