Jamalyn (jamalyn) wrote,

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One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish...

Around about four months ago, in an attempt to get an electricity bill friendly nightlight bright enough for me to make it into the house on nights I worked late without tripping over a cat and breaking my neck, I purchased a fish tank.

No... think about it... it really makes perfect sense.

I leave the tank light on 24-7 (much to what I would have believed to be the fish's chagrin)and on early mornings I can see to stumble out the door without having to leave a light on all day and when I work late nights and can arrive safely into a lit home with much the same benefit. :)

About a month after purchasing this fish tank, I found myself in a pet store shopping for cat teasers and decided to buy a fish.

Welcome to my world, where owning a working fish tank does not necessarily necessitate owning a fish.

Overwhelmed by the plethora of choices before me, I asked a much-too-friendly associate for help, at which point she suggested a type of fish called a mollie. After stating that my tank was smallish (being of the 10 gallon variety), she suggested that I purchase no more than six such mollies and that I decide to get either all male or all female. In this species of fish, she went on to tell me, the females grow beautiful flowing tails, where as the males...did not.

Naturally I choose six "females," three orange and three dalmatian (or silver with black spots) which she then proceeded to dip out for me and wrap. I brought my new pets home, forgetting to purchase the cat teaser (much to G.E. and Kiku-chan's disappointment) and was only mildly dismayed to discover that two of my dalmatian’s were floating belly up by the next morning. They were (un)ceremoniously flushed and I went about my life.

Four weeks later, whilst sprinkling TetraMeal across the top of their water and lamenting the fact that my having purchased fish meant that I would soon have to spend the better part of an hour actually cleaning out the fish tank of which they were making a terrible mess, I noticed something small and slivery darting back and forth beneath the branches of my ceramic sakura tree.

Three guesses as to what had infested my tank.

Need a hint? Someone wasn't sporting a Double-X.

It was another two weeks before my newest fish grew large enough for anyone other than my hypersensitive self to see them (most staring into the tank for a minute or two before sighing and remarking, if you say so...) and by now they are big enough to fight with their forbearers for food I so haphazardly remember to drop. And that was okay, I told myself. I had originally intended to have six fish. Two had died, leaving me with four and then four had been born, bringing me up to eight. Eight wasn't so very many more than six. If I placed sticky notes about the house reminding me to feed them, they would very likely thrive.

And thrive they did.

Coming home from work today, I once more noticed a familiar glinting and throwing up the lid to the tank, began to count in horror, one, two, three...




In a ten-damn-gallon tank. I now have twelve little babies, four adolescents and four adult fish all living in a ten gallon tank.

Fish expert, my ass. All female, my ass. Anyone want a fish (my ass)?

Here's to hoping that someone eats their young... *sighs*

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