Too many fish and a big old chicken
Written by bananas on February 19, 2008 – 9:24 pm -Something you may or may not know about the Banana family is that we have fish. Two goldfish, to be exact, named Harry and Bumpy.
Harry and Bumpy are the sole survivors of the Great Goldfish Plague of 2007, in which we had goldfish floating belly-up on a very regular basis. Every time we’d get a new fish to replace one that had died the day before, we’d introduce a new malady that would strike down one of the others on the following day. It was a vicious and seemingly endless cycle of death. Until finally, somehow, it stopped and we were left with Harry and Bumpy.
By mutual agreement, Jay is the official aquarium keeper. His responsibilities include cleaning, feeding, and other related tasks. And he’s good at it… at least he seems to be good at it now that the fish have stopped their daily dying.
One evening a few weeks back we made a family trip to a local pet store to look at the animals. It seemed like something fun to do on a rainy and dreary night. After a few minutes under the harsh light of Petco, I decided to run next door really quick to check out the bargains at the OshKosh outlet, leaving Jay and CJ to look at the mice and hamsters and snakes and birds and fish.
Before I left, Jay informed me that he was considering buying another goldfish. Because two is an even number and everyone knows that odd numbers are BETTER for things like art and centerpieces and (of course) goldfish.
“Well, I don’t know,” I told him, “getting a new fish is likely to start the cycle of disease and death all over again. Maybe we should just be happy as we are. I really don’t want Harry and Bumpy to die.”
CJ’s eyes widened at my last statement. He frantically tugged at Jay’s coat and wailed, “DADDY, I don’t want Harry and Bumpy to DIIIIIE!”
Jay scowled at me before leaning down to tell CJ, “they’re NOT going to die. Well, probably.”
He paused and then added, “it’s just that I’d like to have THREE fish. Two is boring.”
“It’s your decision,” I told him, “just know that if you get another fish and the DYING starts again, I BLAME YOU,” with these foreboding words hanging in the air between us, I turned on my heel and headed for OshKosh.
Fifteen minutes later I was standing in the OshKosh checkout line, piles of clothes on each arm, when Jay and CJ stormed in. Jay’s face was dark and angry. Uh oh.
“What happened?” I asked him, “where’s the fish? Did CJ do something? What’s the matter?”
“That woman,” Jay paused and then continued through gritted teeth, “that woman REFUSED to sell me a goldfish.”
I looked at him in surprise. “Huh? Wouldn’t sell you one? Why?”
The sales clerk leaned toward us, curious to hear Jay’s answer.
“She’s one of those BUSY BODY types of women,” Jay explained, “She asked what size tank we have and how many fish and then she said she was sorry but she couldn’t sell us a third fish because that would be too many for our 6 gallon tank.”
He shook his head angrily and muttered, “Idiot.”
“She wouldn’t sell you a fish?” I was struggling to understand. “But she works at a pet store! Isn’t selling pets her MAIN JOB?”
The sales clerk chuckled as he took my credit card and I added, “It’s not like we are looking to buy the thirtieth or even the fifteenth fish for our aquarium. Three goldfish in a six gallon tank is NOT excessive.”
Jay shook his head, “I know.”
“That’s like, like… discrimination or something,” I added, “She can’t refuse to sell you a fish.”
I took my bag of clothes from the cashier and announced, “That woman and I are going to have words.”
Already, in my head, I was practicing how it would go. I would march into Petco and up to that red-vested woman and I would say, “Excuse me, but we are HERE to BUY a FISH.”
And if she gave me any problems, whatsoever, I would fix her with a withering stare and shout, “SELL US THE STUPID FISH YOU MISERABLE WOMAN!”
It was going to be good.
Or else it would be really REALLY bad.
But as we approached Petco, for some strange reason my feet kept right on going, one foot in front of the other, right on past the doors.
Jay looked at me, “I thought you were going to have words with her,” he said.
I sighed. “I know. But maybe it’s a SIGN. I mean, I wasn’t so keen on getting another fish anyhow. You know, with the risk of death and all.” I paused and then continued, “I think it’s better, more constructive, to just veto their store. Forever. We don’t want to buy a fish from that woman. We’ll take our $2 elsewhere.”
Jay nodded and pretended to agree. But he wasn’t fooled.
The truth is that I was chicken.
So we drove home empty-handed to our six-gallon aquarium and two healthy fish. We’ve never tried again to buy a friend for Harry and Bumpy… perhaps taking it as a sign that the two fish is all we’re meant to have.
But every once in a while I think about the fact that somewhere in the greater Seattle area, that woman is denying goldfish to perfectly good men and women. Because I didn’t stop her.
Would you have?
Tags: fish, unbelievable
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Another one bites the dust
Written by bananas on November 6, 2007 – 5:52 pm -CJ is desperate for a pet.
When he sees a dog at the park, a cat sitting in the window, or a cute squirrel, he invariably tugs on my sleeve and whines, “Mommy! I want to get a PET!”
It seems that Bumpy and Harry (the only two survivors of our own personal Fish Cemetery) aren’t cuddly enough. Go figure.
So last night we are hanging out at home and CJ finds a tiny spider making its way across the living room rug.
Unaware of the looming danger, it busily goes about its business… until CJ swoops down with his stubby fingers to not-so-delicately lift it into a cardboard box.
Proudly, he announces, “Mom! Dad! Look… I got a spider!”
“I think you killed it.” Jay tells him.
“NO I DIDN’T!!!” CJ shouts emphatically. And sure enough, there’s a little wiggle left in our eight seven-legged friend. At least for now.
“Well you definitely broke its leg. See how he’s dragging it funny?” Jay points out.
To which I respond by shooting Jay the old stink-eye. Why ruin a perfectly entertaining activity by pointing out this sad fact? If CJ believes that his special new friend is in excellent health, then who are WE to tell him otherwise?!
Fortunately, CJ doesn’t seem phased by Jay’s gloomy health update. He happily spends the evening constructing a home for his new spider friend using marbles and rocks and wooden blocks, bits of cardboard boxes, and a leftover tea-light candle.
After a while, I leave the room to check my email. When I come out, CJ tells me, “Mommy, my pet spider is sleeping.”
From behind him, Jay gestures wildly, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. I get the feeling that the spider is definitely NOT sleeping.
When CJ turns his head, Jay whispers to me, “The spider is DEAD as a DOORNAIL. CJ keeps pinching him between his fingers when he picks him up.”
But CJ is blissfully unaware of his best pal’s untimely demise. “I will name him… SLEEPY.” He tells me, “Because he is SO sleepy.” He giggles, “He sleeps ALL THE TIME!”
Right.
Ten more minutes go by, and CJ is getting bored… and tired. This is a dangerous time of the night for everyone involved. His actions become unpredictable… erratic… violent.
Suddenly, in a fit of rage, he crumples the spider’s dead body between his fingers.
“I’m wrecking my spider.” he announces, teeth gritted. “He’s coming all apart.”
He pauses, looking at his handiwork, and his evil smirk is replaced by a look for horror.
“Ohhh!” he moans, “Now I don’t have a PET!” and he hangs his head sadly.
And so we have decided that now is NOT a good time to get CJ a dog. Or a cat. Or a rabbit. Or even a pet squirrel. Basically, if it’s furry and fuzzy and eats and poops… WE ARE NOT GETTING IT.
End of story.
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Thanks for all the excellent feedback on my Big Idea. Look for Hot Mamas Know coming SOON!!
And, a huge thank you to Chris for nominating this post for the Oct. Perfect Post award. I am honored, seriously!
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