‘One fish, two fish’ – the lives of the BFE Fish

It should have been a warning, or rather, no, an omen.
I was born on Jan. 26, 1978 in Bowling Green, Ohio during the “worst” blizzard on record.
Stores ran out of food. The college shut down. Pipes froze.
But, more importantly, my dad’s fish aquarium basically became a large ice cube and all the fish died.
So, I was born and the fish died.
Flash-forward 27 years later – I was now the mom of a 2-year-old toddler who was fascinated with Nemo and his underwater crew. So, we decided to buy a fish tank. It wasn’t anything huge or fancy, but it was pretty cool sitting on our kitchen countertop.
We added some fake trees, a few rocks and of course, the fish.
And then, the fish died. One after another, we found them belly-up in the tank. I lost count how many fish actually died. The final “animal” living in the tank was a cute little frog. He died too. We threw the fish tank away.
Flash-forward eight years later – The 2-year-old is now 10 and wanted his own fish tank. I agreed. We cleaned off his dresser. He bought a ½ gallon tank; pretty-colored rocks; and a single fish.
We bought “Sergeant” at Walmart at 1 p.m.
“Sergeant” was taking his final swim toward Lake Erie four hours later.
Yes, the fish lasted only four hours.
I felt bad the fish didn’t even last 24-hours, so I agreed to buy a few more fish.
Off to Walmart we went and bought THREE fish … we thought maybe the single fish was sad and just died of a broken heart – he missed his tank-mates.
Two of the three fish are in Fish Heaven. The last one isn’t looking too great either. His dead tankmates were losing their fins and their eyes were bulging out. It was gross.
We also bought two snails. Those suckers (literally) seem to be pretty hardy.
And, yes, I have cleaned the tank – and yes, one maybe flopped out onto our kitchen countertop, but I moved him safely back to the tank.
I don’t know. I guess some people are cat people; some are dog lovers; and some are big into fish tanks. For now, I think we are going to continue stepping over our fat cat who sleeps by the door and leave the fish where they belong – at Walmart or in Lake Erie.