As I sit here writing this entry the little cursor blinks impatiently while I struggle to compose my thoughts in an eloquent and professional manner. I'm a twenty-three-year-old college graduate, I'm supposed to sound professional right? But why on earth am I so concerned with sounding intelligent? Why do I really care what my peers think of me, or any of you who just might happen across this?
I sometimes wish I could just live my life in a fish bowl like my pets. I wouldn't have to think, I wouldn't have to do anything but live and swim.
My fiance recently moved to the caribbean for medical school and he left me in charge of his pet fish. All four of the little rainbow colored guppies were named Fish. And the sucker fish? Well Richard creatively named him Sucker Fish, although I've recently started referring to him as Dyson.
One by one our little Fish fish began to die off; Guppies have short life spans after all. I would call Rich in tears to tell him that I found one of them belly-up or wedged in one of the glow-in-the-dark plants. Each loss further punctuating the distance between us.
Eventually all of the fish died, save two: Dyson and one of the fish named Fish. This little Fish fish was special; Rich and I bought him together. He was a very tiny red guppy. He looked sick, and possibly mentally handicapped. He swam erratically around the tank, often bumping into the other fish. We didn't want him. Rich called the pet store fish-wrangler over and she scooped out two little guppies for us. When the girl went back to scoop out a third fish she scooped up our Fish. And Fish, being the tenacious little bugger that he is, promptly jumped out of the scoop net and fell about five feet to the floor.
We all stood there stunned for a few seconds, and then the girl scooped him up with a paper towel and plopped him into a little bowl of water on her supply cart. "You don't want him. He won't last long," the girl said as she went to scoop out a different fish for us.
But we did want him. He had personality. He had tenacity. Or perhaps he was simply a few french fries short of a Happy Meal. Either way he was perfect. She begrudgingly placed the tenacious little guppy in the baggie with our other two fish and we took them all home.
Fish the Tenacious has since outlived all of the other guppies. He is, aside from Dyson, the last fish standing. He survived two fish-sickness epidemics, power outages, and countless tank cleanings. He is also the only fish who was not afraid of Dyson the suckerfish. In fact, Fish likes to swim after Dyson and pick algae off of him. Fish has also been known to get excited near feeding time and splat into the side of the tank.
I look forward to feeding him each morning. He swims up from behind the plants and writhes maniacally in the water beneath the little feeding flap. Seeing his little red feathery body zoom around the tank is a daily reminder to be a little more tenacious, and perhaps, to have a little more faith.
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