BUBBLES & PUDDLES. Pts. 1-4

I think I must be far too sensitive for my own good.

But let me begin at the beginning. Sarah, our granddaughter, recently made the journey from south Georgia to central Florida to begin her first year of college; my daughter’s alma mater and mine before that.

As it has fallen together, Sarah will be spending time in both our homes, (a distance of a few miles) and will have a bedroom in each.

Did I mention that my granddaughter brought a pet with her? (Well, she did). A rather unobtrusive pet to be sure. For you see, her pet inhabits a watery environment and is all of an inch long. Generically referred to as a goldfish, he is anything but gold, but rather, black. A Black Molly.

Since Sarah will be alternating her time between the two houses, she has chosen to leave the little fish with us. And as a result, I have taken a little time to observe the critter in his life pursuits.

To say he isn’t all that active would be a gross understatement. “Bubbles” just seems to float listlessly around in his half-filled bowl, gills pulsating and tiny fins fluttering.

Did I say I may be too sensitive for my own good? (I thought so).

Sarah tells me she’s had the little water breather for a couple of years. And it immediately occurred to me that the little thing has swam around in that 10x10 inch bowl for three quarters of a thousand days! And if that were not enough, “all by his lonely.”

And it seems to me that little Bubbles cannot help but be lonely.

Pt. 2

While I’ve never been a particular fan of goldfish, or their sundry and assorted peers of various breeds and colors, (but rather, I am a dog person) the existence of that lone little fish on my kitchen counter has, admittedly, got me thinking.

I mean, I’ve wondered if Bubbles grasps how all alone he really is.

I suppose the nearest thing to it, to which I can relate, is that old Tom Hanks movie, “Castaway.” You gotta know that young fella was alone. And it occurs to me that his amazing plan to escape the island was, well, amazing.

I like to think that I am a “mover and a shaker,” and someone who is seldom, if ever, content to allow a problem to go unresolved.

And, as a result, anyone who knows me might easily predict what I am about to share with you.

I have found myself tapping on the side of Bubbles’ domicile and have, more than once, dipped a finger into his watery environment; in an attempt to elicit some sort of response. Any response. However, if Sarah’s little Black Molly knew or cared, there was simply no way to be sure.

Did I infer I’m rarely content to allow a problem to go unresolved? (I thought I did).

Granted, it ain’t rocket science, and it certainly doesn’t approach the heroics of the Tom Hanks character, and his solution in “Castaway.”

But whereas, our own little Castaway will inhabit his own little ‘aquatic island’ for the remainder of his natural days, I think the investment of a few dollars, and the resulting presence of a “lady love” might assuage the loneliness which has permeated Bubbles’ watery home for an interminably long time.

Hang in there, Bubbles. Help is on the way!

**Update - Bubbles now has a wife named "Puddles." May they have a long and happy life together.

I did their premarital counseling and their wedding ceremony. They should be good to go now. (I may need to put a drape over the bowl tonight and give them a little privacy). All 'tongue in cheek' to be sure.

Pt. 3

(Several days later)

Dear readers, two things have transpired since I first “set pen to paper.”

My granddaughter informed me that, “No, Bubbles is NOT a Molly, but rather a Beta.” (You could have fooled me). But then again, about all I ever knew about fish, I learned at my local Red Lobster when the waitress summarized The Catch of the Day. Well, to be sure that may be an overstatement, but among my favorite culinary avocations is putting them in my mouth.

As I have previously informed you, having arrived home from the pet shop I ‘introduced’ Puddles to Bubbles, and was glad to have done my part to assuage the latter’s loneliness.

Well, my friends, I had no sooner poured little Puddles into what had formerly been Bubbles’ watery bachelor pad, than “all hell broke loose.” Suddenly, and without warning, the larger and more colorful fish torpedoed towards Puddles, and slammed rudely into her snout. And having just witnessed his unexpected ‘greeting,’ I thought, “Well now, that is (literally) a ‘fine howdy do.’”

And having just observed what seemed to be the tropical fish form of spousal abuse, I hoped I had misinterpreted what was transpiring before me. However, before retiring to his “own side of the ring,”  Bubbles repeated his assault on his defenseless mate.

Needless to say, I was ‘floored.’ Bubbles had languished for two years in the confines of his solitary fishbowl, and no sooner than one of his own kind was introduced into his lonely little world, than he kicked her proverbial butt.

Pt. 4

As a result of the momentary onslaught upon her, Puddles seemed both physically and emotionally stunned. She immediately fluttered to the bottom of the fishbowl; in an apparent attempt to reduce Bubble’s access to her.

And from that moment Puddles assumed the role of a bottom dweller. And though I sometimes dipped a pencil into the water, and attempted to encourage her to explore her watery environment, Puddles resisted all efforts to do so.

And while I only witnessed one additional snout bump, I suspected Bubbles may have visited his retribution on Puddles multiple times over the next several days. As a result, the little Beta grew increasingly listless, and she ultimately floated to the top of the bowl. It was at this point that I finally made the decision to separate the two; hoping that I could nurse the unfortunate little fish back to health. My search for a suitable vessel ended with the cabinet above my kitchen sink. Selecting a large ceramic gravy bowl, I filled it with water, and gently transferred the ailing little female to the safety of her makeshift domicile.

In the meantime, my granddaughter, Sarah, took it on herself to procure a more permanent residence from our local Walmart. You’ve heard of a bicycle built for two? Well, this was a fishbowl built for two. A divider would allow Bubbles and Puddles to view the other, but the ultimate fix would be more than a trial separation.

Before the “happy couple” could be transferred to their new home, however, and having just gotten up from an afternoon nap, Sarah broke the news. She had found Puddles floating at the top of her temporary home. After assuring myself that her gills were still, (rhymes) and there was no gesticulation of her fins and tail, I retrieved her small corpse from the gravy bowl.

Afterward

While I think I have never been called upon to dispose of a deceased tropical fish, it has been my custom to bury my dearly departed pets in my back yard. However, given the time of night, (for it was very late) and the minute size of the deceased, I determined to provide her a resting place as near as my own bathroom. 

And as I consigned her mortal remains to the same liquidy substance from whence I had just retrieved her, I uttered a mournful, “Rest in Peace, Puddles” before depressing the handle, and sending the pitiful little creature to her eternal home.

I think I will never understand why a bachelor Beta fish named, Bubbles would resist my well-intentioned efforts to make him a husband. And it was no subtle act of resistance, mind you, but rather, the most immediate and ill-intentioned kind, and a most foul deed on the wife of his youth.

My friends, there is no easy way to conclude this sad and sorry tale. May it simply be said that my intentions were noble, that the smallest shred of guilt remains, and that Puddles was, after all, the best of all Beta’s.


Excerpt from (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary. Vol. 64. Copyright pending

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