THE LONELY MOLLY. Pts. 1-2

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.

William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary, Vol. 63. Copyright Pending.

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