Saturday, September 17, 2011

Only the fish die young

As featured July 22, 2011 on cnjonline.com

The first one to go was the algae eater — initially construed as a bittersweet sign that at least the tank was clean.
But by that night the second one flopped on its side, gills flaring for the last time.
Then a third died — the one that lived under a rock, which I, even to this day, have never seen.
The fourth and largest fish fought for two days — long enough that we thought he would make it — then he finally succumbed.
And that was it... An entire world wiped out.
With all the dry heat of late, the tank was evaporating rapidly and in need of frequent refills.
And those frequent refills led to the use of all the water conditioning drops — You know, the ones that neutralize the chlorine and make water fish friendly.
But as I stood at the store preparing to buy more, the heavens opened and the angels sang and a little voice whispered to me, “Derrrr... well water doesn’t have chlorine dummy...”
Eureka! We had been unnecessarily treating the water to neutralize nonexistent water treatment. Of course, just to be sure, I asked a fish expert and they said it should be fine to just use water from the tap.
Several days later, here we are with an apparently uninhabitable ecosystem in the living room.
Fish die. That’s just something I have learned over the years.
It started when I was 3-ish and dumped a whole bag of wheat flour in my gold fish’s bowl because he looked hungry.
Who knew wheat wasn’t healthy for fish, or for that matter, that they don’t swim well in dough?
But battered fish aside, I can’t remember ever owning a fish into its geriatric days. And I’m sure I’m not alone — I bet every 10 seconds or so a family gathers ‘round a flushing commode somewhere.
Dogs and cats and the like are simple since they breathe and eat pretty much the same as us.
But raising anything that isn’t mammal can be challenging.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s fun playing Creator sometimes. “Hmmm, I think I would like to see a tree over here, and how about a little hill over there... Ooh, vines would be the perfect touch there... And a waterfall, yes, that’s perfect!”
Until you mess up on something critical, like oxygen.
Any time you try to create a little self-sustaining world inside a glass box, you’re bound to mess something up because, quite frankly, you’re just not omniscient, omnipotent or omnipresent.
And messing up can run the spectrum from minor, fixable issues to mass murder.
When the fish died, my natural reflex thought was, “Oh no! We drink that water too,” but it doesn’t sound like whatever got the fish is coming for us next.
I did a little reading —after the fact of course, because as the saying goes, “you don’t know what you don’t know,” until it kills your fish (I added that last bit) — and I still don’t know much more than I did.
There are several possibilities, from well water needing to be aerated before it’s mixed in, to differing pH levels or temperature or a contaminant in the bucket that was used.
Of course I could spend more time researching the issue and then have a go at it again. But for now, I think it’s best, in memory of the four who are no more, to drain the tank and repurpose it.
Perhaps in another five or 10 years I’ll have forgotten the specifics and will only remember how fun it is to watch the fish swimming around in their world-within-a-world, or through some magical osmosis I’ll wake up a fish expert someday.
I guess if there’s an upside, it lies in the discovery there must not be any fishy things swimming in my water supply.
The comedian W. C. Fields may have put it best when he said, “I never drink water because of the disgusting things that fish do in it.”

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