My daughter has a goldfish. He’s probably about the fourth or fifth in a line of goldfish that have graced our home, as it goes with goldfish. This guy’s been alive for awhile, I think he’s going on about five months now, but it might be longer. He has a tendency toward having his float bladder (or whatever it’s called — it’s an organ fish have to keep them properly buoyant, so they don’t float to the top or sink to the bottom) go off-kilter. Occasionally he’s just too float-y and he struggles to keep himself from constantly floating to the top of the little tank he lives in. I’ve recently learned that a snack of peas can nip this in the bud and get the fish back to normal, and it really works quite well. (Of course I say “a snack of peas” but really, it’s a “snack of pea” because he only gets one that I crush between two fingers and remove the outer skin.)
I noticed last night when I went in to make sure Lane was snugly under her blankets that he was a bit too buoyant, so I gave him a pea and spent a little time watching him. I was compelled to watch him for a few reasons — first, well, it’s just sort of soothing to watch a fish swim around for a few minutes. Second, because he seems to really, really enjoy the pea snacks he gets. He attacks the pea like a little golden piranha. If he had the capacity to growl, I imagine he would. Thirdly he was in the middle of taking the biggest poop I’ve ever seen come out of a goldfish, and I was sort of compelled to watch to see how big this sucker got before it fell off. Weird, I know, but it was late and I was not at all sleepy.
It definitely made me realize I don’t want to ever be a goldfish, or probably any fish for that matter. When the urge hits to drop the kids off at the pool, I want nothing more to sit on a toilet, by myself… and thanks to being home with the kids, I don’t even always get the ‘by myself’ part. I certainly would not, ever ever, wish to go about my business with a giant turd hanging out my butt.