oh, Seymour
As I walked down the hall this morning to my office, I felt the lingering whispers of "fiiiisssshkkiiillllerrrrr" following me, like there was an eerie presence in the air, hovering over my shoulder. When I turned around, it was just Jack. "I went and saw your fish this morning," he said, very cryptically, and then slipped into the bowels of the cubicles. The temperature dropped ten degrees and I shivered. I was very nervous about rounding the corner, looking into the fishbowl, and seeing Seymour's cold, dead, judging eyes. I came in, took off my coat, turned on the computer and took a huge swig of coffee. I felt as fortified and ready as possible. I turned to look --
Seymour, That Plucky Bastard, was STILL ALIVE.
"Seymour, you're alive," I exclaimed.
He was in an upright position at the bottom of the tank, gupping his mouth wide open. "I cannot BELIEVE this fish is still ALIVE," I said to Cici and Jeannie. They both agreed. Why he is still hanging on is a mystery to us. Clearly the prospect of joining Esta in fishy heaven holds absolutely no appeal.
Marguerite ran in at that moment. "He's alive, that fish!" We all gathered around and stared at him for a little while.
Every now and then he would make a heroic swim to the top but it took so much out of him that he floated backward down onto his back. He stayed upside down for awhile before getting himself upright again. He's repeated this numerous times in the past couple of hours. Even now he's flapping his little fins and makes it halfway up the tank, and then sinks back down and bonks his little fish face on the rocks. His back tails fins are more perky today, though, and he hasn't once laid on his side.
I think this little bastard is going to live.
ETA Thanks to Shay, I realized that I neglected to inform of the events on Friday afternoon. Indeed, I broke down and cleaned the tank on Friday afternoon; it was an arduous endeavor that left me nauseated and elbow deep in disgusting fish poopy water, but clean it I did. The tank sparkled and shined and then I put in fresh water into which I lovingly placed Seymour. I blessed him and said my goodbye, and departed for the weekend.
Seymour, That Plucky Bastard, was STILL ALIVE.
"Seymour, you're alive," I exclaimed.
He was in an upright position at the bottom of the tank, gupping his mouth wide open. "I cannot BELIEVE this fish is still ALIVE," I said to Cici and Jeannie. They both agreed. Why he is still hanging on is a mystery to us. Clearly the prospect of joining Esta in fishy heaven holds absolutely no appeal.
Marguerite ran in at that moment. "He's alive, that fish!" We all gathered around and stared at him for a little while.
Every now and then he would make a heroic swim to the top but it took so much out of him that he floated backward down onto his back. He stayed upside down for awhile before getting himself upright again. He's repeated this numerous times in the past couple of hours. Even now he's flapping his little fins and makes it halfway up the tank, and then sinks back down and bonks his little fish face on the rocks. His back tails fins are more perky today, though, and he hasn't once laid on his side.
I think this little bastard is going to live.
ETA Thanks to Shay, I realized that I neglected to inform of the events on Friday afternoon. Indeed, I broke down and cleaned the tank on Friday afternoon; it was an arduous endeavor that left me nauseated and elbow deep in disgusting fish poopy water, but clean it I did. The tank sparkled and shined and then I put in fresh water into which I lovingly placed Seymour. I blessed him and said my goodbye, and departed for the weekend.