h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

So I may have told you at some point about the love/hate relationship I've had with my goldfish. He was a Wal-Mart find, a nice gold fish with one black eye. We put him in a tank with a few other fish, and expected many seasons of ichthyological bliss. However, one by one, the other fish would mysteriously disappear. We eyed Sam with suspicion, and he regarded us blandly. And then we discovered that no amount of filtration would keep his water clean. We bought plecko after plecko, all of whom cleaned the tank beautifully, only to die a few days later. Sam was, as usual, seemingly unmoved. We threatened Sam. He looked at us as though to say, "Yeah, so bring it on, so what?" During a passive aggressive stint, I let his water level drop. He just dug the gravel away from the bottom and went about his business. He got huge. Sam was becoming less and less appealing as a pet. Lately I've been thinking that my kids would like pets that are slightly more interactive than one nasty, anti-social old fish. I considered the merits of putting him in the goldfish pond in town. I cleaned out his aquarium and kept him on the kitchen table for a few days to ponder the issue, occasionally peering over the edge of his bowl. Finally I reasoned that if I was going to do it, I should do it now, since the winter has been extraordinarily mild to this point. I decided to put him into colder water to see how he'd acclimate. Brandishing coffee mug and spatula, and went to his bowl, intent on his safe transfer. After fighting with me for a few moments, he sank to the bottom and stopped moving. I tapped him a little. Nothing. Now something you may not know about me is that dead house fish freak me out. I've seen gutted cats, dead horses, you name it, but there's just something about a lifeless creature in water that makes my skin crawl. Fortunately David was in the house, so I stood there frantically jumping up and down and screeching while I waited for him to come relieve me of my post, and see if that poor fish was still alive. David sighed, instructed me on how to put my items down on the table and back away so he could access the bowl, and set to work. I ran into the living room and balled up on the couch. That wasn't far enough away evidently, so I ran into the hallway. After a few moments I poked my head around and learned that not only was he alive but that he was transferred with ease. I spoke a few harsh words to Sam, and stuck him in the car. As we drove to his point of release, I became slightly ill with worry as Stairway to Heaven came on the radio and when I passed a horridly flattened squirrel on the road. We reached the pond, and I was encouraged to see a multitude of water fowl sitting on the water. Must not be that cold, I reasoned. I went down to the water's edge and cleared a little space of its debris. I opened Sam's bowl, and quickly transferred him to the pond. He hit the water and immediately made the most heart-breaking struggling swimming attempts towards me, but was impeded by the muddy bank. I tried to swish him back out into deeper water but he would have none of it. He eventually stopped moving. I pondered seriously going back to the car at that point, but I had visions of mobsters furtively dumping bodies in the Hudson Bay, so I remained in my spot, to honor his end should that be necessary. Finally, Sam's gills stopped moving, and his fins stiffened. I had killed my poor, poor, manky little fish.

And so I sat there hunched on the bank feeling very badly indeed. I watched, I listened, I remained for a good while. I whispered my apologies and moved him further out into the water, and he settled where a glimpse of his gold sparkle could be seen where the sun refracted through the ice. I got back in the car and was able to drive almost a full block before I started crying. Life is precious, and my thoughtlessness had blackened the world a little. Not a great loss, but, in the end, not much less of one than that which will make the world less bright when I pass on. *sigh*

YOU MURDERER!!!!!

I didn't even contemplate doing that when we purchased a psychotic screeching hamster!!!!!!! We just waited for the damn thing to die...

Damn right you should feel bad! You bumped off a manky old fish!!!

Did you even think about the fact that the consistency of the water you had in it's tank would be completely and utterly different from the stuff in the wild??

Nyssa...

There, there, Nyssa... it's ok....


The was probably just playing dead anyway, just to make you feel bad.

The words "cotton-wool" and "wrapping" spring to mind...

I have no idea what that's supposed to mean, but I'll assume its mean-spirited as usual and continue with my business.

You are the enemy of all

*balls up and ponders the merits of unsubscribing to her own d*mned journal*

*gives up and goes to bed*

Well you did!!!!!!!!!!!

Poor Nyssa
*s her tightly*

Nyssa, it was a little thoughtless to think that an aquarium reared fish would be able to survive in a cold pond, but I know what it's like when you've got a pet and you're sick of it. Sometimes accidental petocide is the only way.

We had fish in front pond pond has gone and fish are in pond at bottom of the road my brother visits them sometimes, they are all called Bob Next door neighbour keeps loosing them to herrons

*waves*

strikes back!!!

.. *gives collected people funny looks*

*throws stuff at njan*

No fun anymore.

I'd contest it being fun to start with, but I don't want to argue.