Is it normal to be obsessed with a betta fish?
Is it normal to sit there and stare at him every time you come home?
Is it okay to worry about him and hope that he lives forever?
These were questions that I would have found ridiculous two weeks ago. But ever since Fred and George swam into my life I've been seeing things differently. I feel directly responsible for his health and his well-being. I want him to be a good little fish. And I want him to have a happy little fish life. How the heck can you tell if a fish is happy?
I think the reason I am so attached to this fish is because I'm convinced that he was given to me by God himself. This is my destiny fish. Let me tell you the story.
At the end of last semester Gretchen and I discussed getting a pet to live in our dorm room with us. Pretty much any animal is out of the question at college, but we were perfectly happy with the idea of a little goldfish bowl on our refrigerator. So when I went to Rick's apartment over break I asked Christine, who knows quite a bit about aquarium fish, about keeping goldfish. She told me that a bowl is a horrible place to keep a goldfish. She also said that bettas make good pets and are easy to take care of. So I resolved myself to think about it a little more and do a little more research. That research bit may not have actually happened.
Then one day my good friend Chad came over to my house. What are the first words out of his mouth? He says to me, he says, he says, "Do you want a fish?" I darn near flip out on him. Of course I want a fish! But he had no way of knowing that. So I excitedly explain to him about Gretchen's and my plan to adopt a fish and name her Fred and George, in honor of Gretchen's alternate selves (long story. Basically, she was supposed to be twin boys). Chad explained to me that the fish was somewhat of a product of a bad relationship, and naturally, since the relationship was over, he had to get rid of the fish. That's how Fred and George came into my possession.
I spent the first couple of days flipping out about everything from the color of his scales to the size of his gills to the temperature of his water to the silly little look on his face. In those first few days I was super terrified that he would die within the week. I went to every website on the internet having to do with betta care. I learned about the symptoms and treatments of every known betta disease. I even talked on the phone with a poor man at an exotic fish store. Eventually, when Fred and George started eating like a pig, blowing bubbles, and flaring his fins out, I decided to stop worrying so much and just enjoy the pretty little fish. I love it when he looks at us. Gretchen likes it when he waves at us with his fins. Yesterday we were watching "The Little Mermaid" and we caught him actually dancing during "Under the Sea". I think it's adorable when he plays in his plant, swimming in and out of and around it. Hiding in the plant is much less cute when I'm trying to catch him to change his water. Especially since I don't have a net. I have to chase him into the cup using a plastic spoon.
Can't remember where I was going with this. Basically, I like the fish. God bless you, Fred and George!!
On a side note, my hair is blonde again, thanks to my clever ginger-making trick. But I'm terrified that it will somehow wash itself back to green again. The staining powers of that koolaid are phenomenal. I had an awkward moment with a sweet old lady at Walgreens when I was buying my ginger hair dye. She obviously had bad eyesight; she asked me if my current hair color was natural. At first I thought she was joking. But she looked at the box of hair dye in my hands and warned me to be careful, because her daughter once tried to dye her hair blond, and it turned out green. How horrible!!
