Cleo and Spotty

Sophia "won" two goldfish on Saturday. The game was a slam dunk, guarantee to win and I had been steering her clear of it from the moment I heard about the inevitable prizes we would acquire. I am less than thrilled to welcome our new inhabitants.

After Sophia went down from her sugar induced coma of a nap, I grudgingly made a trip to the pet store to look for the cheapest goldfish bowl I could find. As I started to add up the expense of a bowl, some gravel, a fake plastic plant, and the food, I realized that the all included kit was actually just as expensive AND you get a filter. The filter would save me a few tank cleanings a month--score. The pet store sales assistant happened by as I was contemplating the cheapest solution to our (I'm fairly certain sure short term) resident's luxury water condo. She asked if I needed help and I told her I just needed the cheapest setup they offered, explained my predicament, and of course I added how I felt about the whole thing. She replies, "Well goldfish can actually live up to 30 years and grow to be 3 feet long, so we would recommend starting out with a 29 gallon tank for the two goldfish you have. Also, you should let the tank cycle and build up the proper environment for at least 2 weeks before adding the fish." I laughed and told her she had to be kidding. She didn't find it too funny. Actually, she handed me a brochure full of goldfish facts, care and maintenance to back up her claim. Not heeding her advice, I grabbed the 1.77 gallon tank boasting "just add water and fish!" on the box, and marched on over to the checkout. The clerk was a little more amused with my laments on our new pets and sent me away with good luck wishes.

Setting up the tank proved to be a little more than "just add water and fish!" It turns out you need a chemist background, or at the very least the ability to deal with division and metric units. Neither which fall under my ability. After adding 5 cap fulls (the equivalent of 25 mL) of some environmental tank agent, I realized the smaller print of the already small print read that the dosage was for a 50 gallon tank. Again, math skills aren't great, but I assume that's just way too much for a 1.77 gallon tank. So I dumped out the water and refilled the tank, figuring whatever residual agent left in the tank would suffice. 2 hours later, the tank was humming along. The tank instructions recommended that the fish stay in their happy little baggy for at least 3 days. Sorry again, but at this point these little (insert profanity here) are literally going to sink or swim. I wasn't actually wishing them an immediate death sentence though, having gone through all this crap to get them a home. So we waited 3 hours and let them free into their new home.

I am happy to report that almost 48 hours later, they seem to be adjusting fine. I'm still nervously awaiting their demise and the sad reality of teaching Sophia the first lesson of life and death. Oh, and how thrilled is Sophia, you might wonder? Sorry, I guess it's not all about me. She really just wants to feed the fish. Rick suggested we put the tank in her room; let it be her responsibility. Actions speak louder than words, and shortly after making this comment we found Sophia trying to lift the tank and shake it. So if we do have 30 years of this, I'd say in maybe the next 5 years, I'd happily move the tank to Sophia room. But for now, Cleo and Spotty will reside in the family room under watchful eyes.