I bought a fish on the weekend. A very gorgeous bright blue Siamese fighting fish. They don’t take up much space – in fact, their ideal living environs is in as little water as that contained in a coffee mug-sized vessel [so I’m told?] He’s very cool and so far, seems happy enough in his new home – my blue bathroom.
I bought one ‘cos I think they look cool. That’s it, really. As a child I think we had goldfish from time to time – that would inevitably die after a short time – but I don’t recall ever being a real ‘fish person’. If there is such a thing? I’m a dog person. I hate, loathe, despise cats. Not a big fan of birds either. Love the bovines, don’t mind a camel or an elephant. But I didn’t realise how interesting this fish relationship could be. I mean, you just leave them in there to do their thing – er, swim in circles – occasionally drop some food in, change the water, bob’s yer uncle; how much of a ‘bond’ can you create?! It’s not like time spent with a dog, their dependancy on you and resultant loyalty/devotion to/relationship with you.
But, I actually found myself going in to check on him – hoping I hadn’t put too much/little ‘pH neutraliser’ in the water, over/underfed him, just seeing how he adapted, really. What does he think when I switch the light on or off, use the loo/shower/bath? Does he care when the room fills with condensation? Is it too dark, too light, too hot, too cold? He probably doesn’t give a damn. He’s still alive.
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And, I’ve even found myself talking to him. Hello. Morning fish. How are you? But, I don’t have a name for him yet. I was thinking of calling him Madra, which is er, my doggit’s name [Irish for ‘dog’], because madra means ‘blue’ in Croatian – probably not the most creative moniker though. And besides, the ‘lord of the manor’ was pretty non-plussed to see the new addition to ‘his’ home in the first place! Still, out of sight, out of mind…
Maybe I’ll just call him Fish.