Red Fish, Dead Fish

Hayes and I recently acquired a fish. Since we’re vegan, and experience has taught me that fish inevitably die in my care, we have no business with them at all. But it showed up without our consent all pretty and red and educational. So, whatever. Hayes named it Azo.

Well, despite my efforts to avoid it, Azo acquired friends; two small, orange fish that Hayes named Scientist and New Mexico. Again, they showed up without my consent. But I figured everyone needs a friend so… Whatever.

Everything was fine and everyone was getting along swimmingly, so to speak, until it came time to clean the tank. Now, allow me to interject that I was a clean-freak way before having a kid. But now that I share a life with Sir Germ-A-Lot, forget about it. A Clorox doused surface makes me feel more comfortable than a hammock on the beach in the Caribbean. If anything, my prior fish-raising experiences have taught me that tank-cleaning day can be a crucial turning point in a healthy fish's life. They either live through it, or they die slowly afterward.

Poor New Mexico didn’t survive the water change. And Hayes and I suffered through the entire flushing ceremony. A friend joked that I can kill a mouse with hardly a flinch but a dying fish pulls at my heartstrings in the most sentimental, animal-activist kind of way. So, I vowed to do a better job next time. I would try to keep most of the murky water and floating debris in the tank, no matter how much it grossed me out. Afterall, this is supposed to be an educational experience on how to take care of a pet, not Hayes’s introduction to the helplessness of death.

Well, yesterday was tank-cleaning day again. And today I noticed Scientist nose-down in the rocks—exactly the way New Mexico looked hours before the flushing ceremony three weeks ago. Needless to say, I’m sad and bracing myself for another emotional evening.

Thankfully, I already have a plan to get Hayes ready for the event. I’m telling him that we’re vegan. And we have no business owning a fish anyway. So, it’s time to set little Scientist free before he becomes anymore miserable in our care.

…And then we’ll watch Finding Nemo. How’s that for education? I don't really care. I just hope it works.