BUDDY BOY
Last Christmas (or was it the Christmas before?) an ex of mine asked me to take care of his two bettas while he went home for the holidays. While he returned to L.A., he never came back to my apartment to collect his fish.
I didn't much mind. My ex had kept them together in a small vase, and despite the commonly held belief that one can safely keep a male and female betta in the same container, these two were literally tearing each other apart. I don't know if my ex hadn't noticed, or hadn't cared. I quickly separated them. I grew attached gave them names: Princess Fish and Buddy Boy.
I admit that I was not fully ready to take on the (more substantial than you might think) responsibility of owning fish. I fed them only sporadically, sometimes too little, often too much, and occasionally weeks would go by before I'd clean their vases.
Still, when Buddy Boy came down with a fungal infection that was one of the most disturbing things I've ever seen (I'll spare you the details) I spent more money and time than I think most people would to nurse him back to health.
The infection affected Buddy Boy's disposition, as much as any fish has a disposition to be affected. One moment he'd flash his fins in hopes of food, the next he'd drift listlessly over the pebbles at the bottom of his vase. He was also now nearly blind, and keeping him fed became somewhat of a chore -- one I accomplished by patiently sweet-talking him into eating one pellet at a time.
But two days ago he stopped eating, and this morning he was dead. His little body lay askew at the bottom of his vase; his scales were covered with the grey felt of early decay. I considered that our pets are nearly always dispatched with undo indignity. Buddy Boy in particular had suffered through so much. Still, I told myself, he was only a fish. I cleaned the toilet before I flushed him.
Princess Fish is doing as well as ever. She swims energetically around her vase, and she eats like a pig. I like to think she feels odd about the disappearance of the vase that has, until now, always been next to hers, but of course I know she doesn't. She's only a fish.
Buddy Boy too was only a fish, and I miss him.
I didn't much mind. My ex had kept them together in a small vase, and despite the commonly held belief that one can safely keep a male and female betta in the same container, these two were literally tearing each other apart. I don't know if my ex hadn't noticed, or hadn't cared. I quickly separated them. I grew attached gave them names: Princess Fish and Buddy Boy.
I admit that I was not fully ready to take on the (more substantial than you might think) responsibility of owning fish. I fed them only sporadically, sometimes too little, often too much, and occasionally weeks would go by before I'd clean their vases.
Still, when Buddy Boy came down with a fungal infection that was one of the most disturbing things I've ever seen (I'll spare you the details) I spent more money and time than I think most people would to nurse him back to health.
The infection affected Buddy Boy's disposition, as much as any fish has a disposition to be affected. One moment he'd flash his fins in hopes of food, the next he'd drift listlessly over the pebbles at the bottom of his vase. He was also now nearly blind, and keeping him fed became somewhat of a chore -- one I accomplished by patiently sweet-talking him into eating one pellet at a time.
But two days ago he stopped eating, and this morning he was dead. His little body lay askew at the bottom of his vase; his scales were covered with the grey felt of early decay. I considered that our pets are nearly always dispatched with undo indignity. Buddy Boy in particular had suffered through so much. Still, I told myself, he was only a fish. I cleaned the toilet before I flushed him.
Princess Fish is doing as well as ever. She swims energetically around her vase, and she eats like a pig. I like to think she feels odd about the disappearance of the vase that has, until now, always been next to hers, but of course I know she doesn't. She's only a fish.
Buddy Boy too was only a fish, and I miss him.