RIP little shark
There is a sort of macabre humor to this story. But I do feel bad about it.
We have a decent-sized fish tank (40 gallons?) and in it rest a castle (former home of the ogre, our Plecostomus, before he got too big) and a facsimile of the Roman coliseum (former home of our blue lobster, who didn't survive an unfortunate molting experience). Now covered in algae, they have been the hiding space for a few rosy barbs.
Yesterday morning we discovered that our larger Bala shark, a sturdy torpedo-shaped fish about six inches long, had managed to get stuck in one of the arched windows of the coliseum. Clearly the fish swam in and was unable to get its dorsal fin through, but was unable to back out, impeded by large silvery scales that faced the wrong way. We aren't sure when this happened -- DH had not fed the fish the previous day and so it could have been more than 24 hours before we discovered poor Bala, still gently panting and swishing pectoral fins.
It took a Herculean effort to un-stick poor Bala, and many scales were lost in the process. Of course there had been considerable swelling of the front end of the fish while stuck. Immediately the fish started to list and go belly up. We tried to quarantine poor Bala but it was too late. Within moments all signs of respiration stopped and after no motion in 24 hours we concluded the accident had been fatal.
I can't shake the memory of the one Homicide: Life in the Streets episode I've seen, where a man had been pushed off a subway platform and gotten wedged between the platform and an incoming train. The entire episode was about the efforts to reach this man's significant other because it was clear his spinal injuries were going to be fatal and he would die as soon as they relieved the pressure on them. Yet the freak accident had left the man fully conscious, in no pain, and completely unaware of his impending death. It still haunts me.
We have a decent-sized fish tank (40 gallons?) and in it rest a castle (former home of the ogre, our Plecostomus, before he got too big) and a facsimile of the Roman coliseum (former home of our blue lobster, who didn't survive an unfortunate molting experience). Now covered in algae, they have been the hiding space for a few rosy barbs.
Yesterday morning we discovered that our larger Bala shark, a sturdy torpedo-shaped fish about six inches long, had managed to get stuck in one of the arched windows of the coliseum. Clearly the fish swam in and was unable to get its dorsal fin through, but was unable to back out, impeded by large silvery scales that faced the wrong way. We aren't sure when this happened -- DH had not fed the fish the previous day and so it could have been more than 24 hours before we discovered poor Bala, still gently panting and swishing pectoral fins.
It took a Herculean effort to un-stick poor Bala, and many scales were lost in the process. Of course there had been considerable swelling of the front end of the fish while stuck. Immediately the fish started to list and go belly up. We tried to quarantine poor Bala but it was too late. Within moments all signs of respiration stopped and after no motion in 24 hours we concluded the accident had been fatal.
I can't shake the memory of the one Homicide: Life in the Streets episode I've seen, where a man had been pushed off a subway platform and gotten wedged between the platform and an incoming train. The entire episode was about the efforts to reach this man's significant other because it was clear his spinal injuries were going to be fatal and he would die as soon as they relieved the pressure on them. Yet the freak accident had left the man fully conscious, in no pain, and completely unaware of his impending death. It still haunts me.