Well, kind of.
If you haven't noticed, I am quite the animal lover. I come by it honestly- from both my mom and my dad. One of the family friends always says that if she is reincarnated, she wants to come back as one of my family's pets. They have it good. Even the fish.
When I was a junior in college, I hit a little bit of a low point and decided that I needed something to cheer me up. My friend, KTO, and I were at Wal Mart when we found the solution. Bettas! Almost simultaneously, we picked out our fish and had the same exact thought "I shall name you ------ and you will be the best Betta ever." Well, I don't really know if that is what she thought, but since she doesn't have her own blog, we won't ever find out.
My fish was Levi the Leviathan (swimming in the sea of Galilee... glub glub glub) and hers was Moto.
Little did I know Levi the Leviathan was about to teach me a big ass life lesson. When you are depressed, buying a fish will not fix anything. It only makes things worse. Especially if they are an anorexic fish and your roommate's fish is a huge fatty. Katie and I would feed our fish at the same time and you could hear Moto chomping down on his fish niblet from the next room over. Levi, on the other hand, would suck in a pellet and then, in a French accent, spit it out and say "peh... you call this food?" I hated him and his stupid fish guts.
At some point, I tired of my Betta and passed it on to my mother. She says she can't remember what happened to him, but I am pretty sure he was given a funeral at sea... before his time.
I don't know what happened to Moto either, but at some point KTO purchased another Betta, whom she named "Blech." Her reasoning was that she would never have another fish as good as Moto, so why even try. Blech didn't wait around for Levi's fate. He went ahead and did the job himself by jumping out of his bowl. I would too, if my owner named me Blech.
I reestablished my relationship with the fish world last December. Around Christmas, my mother made the mistake of sending me to PetCo with her credit card. I purchased what was on her list, but also came home with two Bettas. One for me and one for her. My parents' cats immediately tried to befriend the fish:
As you can see, Coconut was incredibly friendly. She was just trying to say 'hello':
Rastus, on the other hand, was just a little thirsty. I mean, can't a cat catch a break?
My mother laughed at the inter species interactions for about thirty minutes straight and then immediately got over the idea of owning a fish. She selected her fish (the red one) and walked to the neighbors house. She let herself in and told the two girls that lived there (ages six and nine) "look at what I got y'all for Christmas!" This was immediately met by squeals of delight and their mom looking at my mother with a real sarcastic "Thanks, Cathy." (Sorry, Sherry...)
While my mom's run of owning a fish lasted less than an hour, my fish, Frederick, made it back to New Orleans, where he is alive and well.
No fish were hurt in the writing of this blog.****
****Except for these:
|Mmmm mmm KTO says. Gimme that fish/seaweed.|
|Mmmm Mmmm some bigger fish says. I already got your fish.|
Mmmmm Mmmm I say. I like Modelo.