In the past 15 years we have had the occasional pleasure (ha ha) of being the proud owners of goldfish. I have never gone out of my way to afford my children the opportunity of being goldfish masters, however, local carnivals, and whimsical moments have allowed them that blessing.
Every fish that I have had in my home, both growing up and since marrying has not lived much longer than a week (I think). Most have left this earthly existence in a creative, though not intentional, manner. For instance, my dad was walking across the living room one day and touched the fish bowl. The electricity created from his shoes rubbing against the carpet created a shock when his hand touched the fish bowl that was sufficient to electricute the fish.
My next experience was over eating. One fish was given so much food and obviously needed a lap band surgery as it overate and promptly passed away in a swollen state, I think its intestines exploded.
My favorite experience, however, was when my sweet son was home sick and I thought he could be left alone in the house for about ten minutes. He thought the fish water was cold and thought he would warm it by putting the fish bowl, including the fish, in the microwave. I had this impression I needed to get home as soon as I arrived where I was going, so I promptly turned around and came home. I asked him if he was ok. He said tearily, "Mom, Fred is dead." My sister's name is Fredi, but I knew he was talking about the goldfish that Rochelle brought home from the Conejo Valley Days carnival. I felt sad for him, so I hugged him. He proceded to explain to me that he put him in the microwave for just a few seconds. I looked over, still hugging my son, and saw that Fred was actually folded in half from the experience. I started laughing so hard, but I did not want him to see me, so I held him tight. He thought I was crying from grief at the loss of this little creature, so he started crying. We held each other as I held in roaring laughter and he cried, thinking I was sobbing. I wasn't sure how to break the news to Rochelle, but as I arrived at school that day, I told her, "I am so sorry honey, but Fred is dead." "What?!" she replied? I repeated, "Fred is dead." She asked how and I had the painful experience of telling her that her brother put him in the microwave. She was angry, for a moment. Then she said, "Oh well, I guess we are having fish soup for dinner!"
About two weeks ago, a girl with dark curly hair was caught running away from our front porch. On the porch was a ziplock bag with water and a goldfish. The orange sticky note said, "Richie, my name is Simba, treat me well." Richie came up, looking perplexed and asked, "What do I do with this?" I told him that we have a history of fish not lasting much longer than a day or so. He offered to go ahead and flush it down the toilet, but that could be construed by PETA as cold blooded murder, so I told him to get the big glass bowl out of the cupboard and create a makeshift fish bowl. He did this, we added some distilled water we use for our steam mop and iron, then put Simba into the bowl. It was Saturday I believe, and we observe the Sabbath, so unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, no fish food was purchased. Richie got some marbles and put them in the bottom of the bowl and we expected that Simba might enter paradise during the night.
News for goldfish owners, believe it or not, Simba has lived for almost two weeks in our home. I am shocked and amazed. I couldn't understand how this fish could survive without food, UNTIL, my children informed me that they have been feeding the fish, of all things, CHEERIOS...yes, it's true, Simba has been surviving on Cheerios. It is whole grain, and not a lot of sugar, and I hear it is good for your heart, so I think I will have to switch my diet to Cheerios to see if I can outlive my life expectancy!
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