I'M IN YOUR CLOOOOOSETTT!!
A little more on Heroin Bob, as LJ entries about fish are most awesome.
I had to do a little research on archer fish for a certain sister's birthday (which is today. To quote a friend, "jovial anniversary of the day of your birth!") and happened to drift over to oscar information.
I found a webpage that was selling toys for oscars. To which I said "Hahaha!" But, it had all these pictures of oscars actually PLAYING with TOYS!
Now, as a fan of Photoshop, I know its powers. I assumed such powers were used. However, I got home, and found one of Elliot's jingle-balls he wasn't using...
(... on a side note, Elliot is the most scaredy-cat parakeet I've ever owned... and Heroin Bob is just as skittish. What is it about me that I end up with the most girly-man pets?)
... and put it in Heroin Bob's tank.
Predictable as always, he was terrified. But, I sat with him and watched him. It took him a mere hour to get used to the new addition to the tank, and before long was grabbing it with his fang-y mouth, dropping it, grabbing it, dropping it, moving it to a new location, picking it up, dropping it, scaring away his rosy barb tank mates from it, grabbing it, dropping it. I was so excited I nearly called my mom.
Upon even further research, oscars are apparently much like toddlers. They like to explore new things with their mouths-- though toddlers have hands with opposable thumbs, and therefore have multiple resources to explore their surroundings.
I tell you all that to tell you this--
Heroin Bob's first owner was my good friend Jessica. His name was Brutus back then, and he was a terror (from what I hear). He would, on a regular basis, jump out of the water and hit the lid of the tank repeatedly until the lid was INSIDE the tank, then, he'd jump for freedom. Jessica would find him, usually in the sink, and plop him back into the tank.
He also refused to eat fish food, mostly because Jessica had taken to feeding him lunch meat.
When I first knew that I was getting him, Onion Ring and I used to joke that he was trying to evolve, and that I'd come home and find a watery trail leading to the fridge, where he'd be helping himself to any and all lunch meat available.
Which would, naturally be only a few steps away from coming home to find him with the New York Times, watching Tila Tequila.
"Heroin Bob! You know I don't like this show!"
He'd growl at me.
"And where'd you get that New York Times?!"
"Doooon't worrrrrry abooooout iiiiit."
Onion Ring and I were most disappointed to find that Heroin Bob wasn't nearly as cool as was reported to us.
But the fact that he plays with toys... man, we're that much closer to him agreeing to a leash so we can go for walks.
I had to do a little research on archer fish for a certain sister's birthday (which is today. To quote a friend, "jovial anniversary of the day of your birth!") and happened to drift over to oscar information.
I found a webpage that was selling toys for oscars. To which I said "Hahaha!" But, it had all these pictures of oscars actually PLAYING with TOYS!
Now, as a fan of Photoshop, I know its powers. I assumed such powers were used. However, I got home, and found one of Elliot's jingle-balls he wasn't using...
(... on a side note, Elliot is the most scaredy-cat parakeet I've ever owned... and Heroin Bob is just as skittish. What is it about me that I end up with the most girly-man pets?)
... and put it in Heroin Bob's tank.
Predictable as always, he was terrified. But, I sat with him and watched him. It took him a mere hour to get used to the new addition to the tank, and before long was grabbing it with his fang-y mouth, dropping it, grabbing it, dropping it, moving it to a new location, picking it up, dropping it, scaring away his rosy barb tank mates from it, grabbing it, dropping it. I was so excited I nearly called my mom.
Upon even further research, oscars are apparently much like toddlers. They like to explore new things with their mouths-- though toddlers have hands with opposable thumbs, and therefore have multiple resources to explore their surroundings.
I tell you all that to tell you this--
Heroin Bob's first owner was my good friend Jessica. His name was Brutus back then, and he was a terror (from what I hear). He would, on a regular basis, jump out of the water and hit the lid of the tank repeatedly until the lid was INSIDE the tank, then, he'd jump for freedom. Jessica would find him, usually in the sink, and plop him back into the tank.
He also refused to eat fish food, mostly because Jessica had taken to feeding him lunch meat.
When I first knew that I was getting him, Onion Ring and I used to joke that he was trying to evolve, and that I'd come home and find a watery trail leading to the fridge, where he'd be helping himself to any and all lunch meat available.
Which would, naturally be only a few steps away from coming home to find him with the New York Times, watching Tila Tequila.
"Heroin Bob! You know I don't like this show!"
He'd growl at me.
"And where'd you get that New York Times?!"
"Doooon't worrrrrry abooooout iiiiit."
Onion Ring and I were most disappointed to find that Heroin Bob wasn't nearly as cool as was reported to us.
But the fact that he plays with toys... man, we're that much closer to him agreeing to a leash so we can go for walks.