thebeckybug

Every time I look at the fish tank as of late I cringe and squint and prepare myself for the worst. This fish, my favorite fish, my most lovely Coral Beauty Angel Fish (seriously, that’s the scientific name.) Well, she died. More specifically, something ate her. Starting with her tail.

One day her tail was torn up, and then the next day it was her fins, and then she looked like she was getting better, then worse, then even way worse. Each day I would watch her, holding back the tears, digging deep inside my soul to will her to get better. I even fed her the specified “Angel and Butterfly frozen fish entree” to make sure she was getting the necessary nutrition for a speedy recovery. And then she disappeared. And I cried. And I have been forgetting to feed the fish this past week. I’m pretty certain this is called denial. And it’s not just a river in Egypt. Denial is like forgetting to feed the remaining fish in your tank because your favorite one of them died.

I finally got around to a non-bleary-eyed look at the tank today. As I reached my hand into the water to clean it up, a fish bit me. Let me rephrase that: My clownfish took a bite out of the back of my hand.

Hey Clownfish! There is a specific reason I do not keep piranhas stocked in my tank! Mr. Bitey kept circling my hand, threatening another attack. I swished my pointer finger around in the water threatening a ride down the porcelain express should he ever do that again!

Then the whole world started whirling around when it occured to me who ate my beloved angelfish. The. Mister. Bitey. Himself. (The Mrs. Bitey may have helped judging by the way she was sneakily swimming.) This enraged me to no end as the camera zoomed in and the sequence of flash backs started playing in my head. Dang clownfish, who have been the downfall of many an uninhabited anemone. Who kill many of my beautiful corals because they insist on making homes in them. Swishing their little fishey selves all over the colorful corals until they just don’t bloom anymore, then moving onto the next. The same clownfish that have eaten 2 pair of flasher fin fish and a goby.

Not to mention all the other fish who don’t make it past the clownfish misconception of a welcome to the tank party. Think of the volcano scene in Finding Nemo except for the part where they all become friends at the end. In my tank the newbies get bugged and nipped and finally eaten. Sometimes I manage to save them from impending doom.

Now I’m taking it into my own hands. The clownfish apparently have a misconception about who rules the house, much less the tank. I will not be bugged into submission and I will not be eaten alive by my clownfish. Rather, the other way around. Sushi, anyone?

No, I will not be flushing my clown fish down the toilet either. I will be selling them to the fish store and re-stocking the fish inhabitants of my tank this weekend. After I feed them some specialized frozen Angelfish and Butterfly Frozen Entree.