A New Fishy Friend

A couple weeks ago we added a tiny new aquatic member to our family.  My oldest got a beta fish.

I've mentioned how my oldest had asked me a few years ago if he could have a pet.  Of course I said no.  When a seven year old wants a pet, we all know who will really end up taking care of it. I told him to check back when he was ten, and I honestly thought he would forget about it when the time came.  Well, he did not, and so we have a new fish friend in our house.

Growing up I had probably ever kind of pet you can imagine (except most farm animals).  I had a hamster at one point that died a couple years later and was memorialized by a melodramatic tree carving above it's tin-can grave.  

I had a parakeet that hated my guts, and though I tried to appreciate that bird, the feeling eventually become mutual.  I wore a thick rubber gardening glove every time I tried to hold it, and that bird still managed to draw blood.  Notice I keep calling it "that bird".  I can't remember it's name, and I think that it's noteworthy that I do remember the name of my hamster (Cream Puff), but not the name of that ornery bird.

We had outdoor cats that would frequently sneak inside when it was cold and fall asleep in the brown armchair in the corner of our living room.  My mom knew they were there and chose to pretend she didn't so they could be cozy for a couple hours inside.  We had several dogs that ended up being named after various cartoon characters (Winnie, Scooby), except for one, Zeke, who would not give up his original name, and another, Whiskey, so named by my dad.  We had horses that we rode up mountain trails every weekend in the summer, and that we use to help haul animals out of the woods during hunting season.

And yes, we had a beta fish.

I couldn't tell you that fish's name if you asked, I only remember that everyone in the family had a different name for it (most notably dubbed "Dinner" by my dad).  Dinner lived most of his life on the kitchen counter, unassuming, mostly unnoticed until disaster struck.

I can't even tell you what happened, but one day one of us kids was playing a rowdy game, and before we knew what had happened, Dinner's tank went hurtling through the air.  There was water everywhere, Mom shouted at us all to freeze, and after a dramatic pause we immediately started scrambling to find the fish.  We searched all over the floor, in the kitchen sink, amidst the logs inside the fireplace, and we couldn't find him.  We searched for at least five minutes until my mom finally spotted him, coated in dirt, lying in the soil of a nearby potted plant.  With a cry she scooped him up and dropped him into the restored fish tank, and we watched as the dirt dissolved off his little red body.  I think we were all pretty sure he was a goner.  But then he wiggled his little fins, his gills started going again, and he survived.  He swam crooked and possibly blind for the rest of his fishy days.  But he survived.

What I am saying is that beta fish are a great first pet.  They are hard to kill.

Back to the current day, we picked up our little blue beta on a Wednesday night, before the kids went to Awana.  It was also a very cold night, and since we usually go out to dinner while the kids are at the church, I thought we better bring the fish into the restaurant with us.  We were seated, and I put the small container on the table next to us.  The waitress came to take our order, but as she asked what we'd like she didn't glance at us even once, but just stared at the fish sitting on the table.  This was probably some sort of health code violation.  I said sorry about the fish, and she said it was alright, he wasn't hurting anybody.  

As we waited for the food, I looked a little closer at the fish cup, and noticed the little blue guy was facing me.  I moved my head to the other side, and he turned to face me again, tiny fins waving frantically.  I tried the finger-following trick, and sure enough, he trailed my finger around the side of the cup before turning to face me again.

Dare I say I started to bond with that little fish?

We've had him for a couple weeks now, and I have to say, he's the friendliest little beta fish I've ever seen. Was my beta fish from my childhood this friendly?  I don't know, but this one has the cutest fishy mannerisms I've ever seen.  Every time I walk in the room, even now, he turns toward me. He seems to prefer faces.  He's a cheerful personality in the corner of the boys' room, any time of day.

I like that little blue fish.

Here's a to a long, happy, beta-fish life.