The Adopted and Doomed

Our family just grew by 50% this afternoon. L and N went to a birthday party up the street and came home with roommates: two teeny, tiny goldfish in Styrofoam cups. I didn't go to the party so when L came bounding back into the house and shoved her cup in my face shouting "Look!," I almost had me a fish shooter, thinking she had brought me back some punch or something. Had it not been for that flash of gold that caught my eye and stayed my hand, I might have had to put my daughter in therapy early.

N came in shortly thereafter with another, particularly parched looking fish, most of his water having been sloshed out on the four-house run down the sidewalk. He immediately wanted to feed it. My mind raced with visions of fishbowls chocked with cheerios and cupcakes and water blood-red from a 50% Kool-Ade solution. We explained to the would-be caregivers that unlike other members of the Perkins family, fish don't particularly like a lot of food, and, facing the facts about a fish's life expectancy in our house, we tried to communicate that even when properly fed, they don't generally last all that long.

"Why not?" asked L. "Do they go away? Do they disappear?"

"Well, if Mommy or Daddy notice them before you do, then yes," I answered.

The naming ceremony was short and to the point. No deliberation needed; L already had completed the task: Ariel and McQueen. (Since L has an obsession with Ariel from the Little Mermaid, she's decided that N needs a subject for compulsive behavior of his own, so she's decided that he idolizes McQueen from the Cars movie. N good-naturedly goes along with it, but truth be told, I think he just humors her.) L, of her own accord, wrote out some labels so the fish would know their names.

Neither fish looks particularly Arielish or McQueenesque to me, though one of the two fish does seem to shared some personality traits with N. When startled it tends to lead with its head, slamming repeatedly it's little gold cranium into any and all barriers (not that there is a plethora to choose from). So I guess on any given day the fish beating itself into the wall will be McQueen, and the more passive (and quiet) of the two, Ariel. I expect they'll probably switch names back and forth every other day, but I'm not too concerned since I strongly doubt there will be all that many days to worry about it.


Yes, I do believe that is abject terror in that poor fish's eye.

3/4/2009 Update: It's Wednesday night and, surprisingly "Ariel" and "McQueen" are still swimming with the fishes, which in this case is a good thing.

As a reward we found them a considerably bigger bowl. They're moving on up. I even swung by an aquarium store after work and got them some purple rock gravel and a stunningly beautiful $2 plastic piece of seaweed. Nothing but the best for our fishy friends.