Fishy: a tale of my most interesting (yes interesting) pet fish

Essay by zombiesgirl December 2004

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She had always kept fish, neither a dedicated dog nor cat person, she'd decided fish were best. For years they would come and go, but there were a couple of stables, she had named them Mickey and Minnie, she hated their names by the time Minnie finally became sick and died. Mickey soon followed, having tried to commit suicide by jumping out of the tank various times, he finally succeeded two months later. She lost her taste in keeping fish with his death.

Boarding school followed and it wasn't till her last year of high school that her mother came to visit bringing with her a beautiful variety of goldfish. They were given a spot on her desk, and she wanted to spend the first day watching them swim. But they spent the first few hours on their own. When she returned that night she noticed one of them floating on top of the bowl.

Upset she looked away. At least one was still alive, fortunately she had yet to name them. She removed the beautiful fish, and headed towards the toilets for the most unsentimental burial any type of animal receives.

Before the fish slipped away she noticed bruises on its gills, she became worried, what if it was the water. She filled a cup with filtered drinking water and placed the other fish in it until she could get the bowl filled. Content that the problem was solved, she went out to find if anyone of her friends was going to town the next day. Her fish deserved a friend after having managed to breathe in the filthy water.

The next day a new fish arrived she placed him in the bowl and thought to herself, its odd, the most beautiful type of fish she'd ever seen swimming...