Fish-love rekindled, when three dogs, two cats and a pig just aren’t enough

My entire childhood, I desperately wanted a dog. My parents are not pet people and there was no way it was ever even a consideration. At different times, my sisters and I were allowed to have hamsters, but that was it. There would be no puppy.

It didn’t stop us from asking, on a pretty regular basis, for a dog; young, old, somebody else’s, we weren’t picky. But the answer was always a firm, “no.” I think this adamant denial is the cause of my current dog obsession. And my sister’s dog obsession. My other sister has only one dog. She’s kind of a crazy dog lady disappointment.

Within weeks of owning my own home, I not only had a dog, I had two dogs. And a pig. Over the years, we’ve lost some to old age and along the way, somehow added a third dog. And two cats. And we also have a fish tank.

Several years back, it was a 75-gallon fish tank that followed us through two apartments and eventually, overtook my entire family room. I could have bathed my kids, and the dogs, inside that behemoth.

For awhile, it was an obsession of my husband’s. He traveled far and wide for just the right fish and plants and carefully maintained the proper water health. Until he didn’t.

Then, with very little fanfare, the fish began to die off and the algae started to take over. When I got tired of scrubbing the walls, and the tank developed a slow leak, we downsized to a 10-gallon tank.

Most of the fish had moved on to the great fish bowl in the sky by then, but we were still in possession of two rather resilient loaches. One of them had even survived a week inside the filter. We found him when my husband went to clean it and dumped the poor bastard right into the kitchen sink. We quickly tossed him back into the tank and assumed he’d be dead by morning. Instead, he soldiered on until he was the lone survivor.

When discussing new fish options for the smaller tank, my husband said that he very much wanted shrimp. They do a wonderful job keeping the tank clean and free of the algae that I hated to scrub. However, loaches, as it turns out, very much like to eat shrimp. But since I could not, in good conscience, follow my husband’s suggestion that we do away with the little guy (for the love of God, he survived in the filter for a week), we decided to just wait it out. How long could a pet store fish possibly live?

Fast forward seven years and the fish tank was a complete mess. The light had broken long ago. The plants were mostly dead. However, lucky for me, there was still enough sunlight to allow the algae to flourish. Then one day, someone lost one half of the scrubbing device and I just gave up. Aside from feeding the fish when I remembered, the tank received no attention of any kind.

Then one day, my daughter asked me for a pet. Seriously.

Me: We have three dogs.

Her: They’re not really mine.

Me: That’s because you’re not nice to them. That’s why we got you the kittens. Two kittens.

Her: Yeah, but they’re not really very nice. They scratch me when I try to bend them to my will.

Me: OK, but there’s still the pig.

Her: She’s too big. She scares me. Can I have a bird?

Me: There are six chickens in the backyard. Have at it.

Her: (loud sigh) Can I at least have a fish?

Me: Are you kidding?

Her: No. I mean it! Please? I will totally take care of it and everything. You won’t have to do anything.

When I pointed out the pathetic, abandoned and sorry-looking tank that had housed a fish for nearly a decade, she was legitimately surprised, “something lives in there?” And for about 72 hours, he was the most loved and attended fish on the east coast. He even got a name. I don’t remember it – and neither does she – but for those three days, that fish was her bestie. Until he wasn’t.

Then, it was back to me to keep the fish alive, until such a time as the loach passed on and we could get shrimp. I was completely comfortable with this situation. And then, last week, my my whole damn family lost their ever-loving minds.

Some kind of fish tank frenzy took over every last one of them and they suddenly decided we needed to take care of the tank. We.

They went all-out and made the 45 minute trek to the only Brian-approved fish store in the county. They spent a small fortune to spruce up the tank, terrifying the poor old guy that had been living like a dirty hermit for the last decade.

There was water-changing, plant-dividing, algae-scrubbing and then, with much fanfare, four new fish joined our island of misfit animals. They were given names and assigned personality traits. There was extensive research into fish breeds (is that a thing?) and their temperaments. The children argued over who would get the privilege of feeding these tiny creatures. When they woke in the morning, they hurried to the tank, and stared into it with an innocent wonder that was heartwarming to see. That lasted for about 72 hours.

At this point, I try to remember to turn the tank light on before the sun goes down.

My oldest still shows some dedication. He feeds them every couple of days. He turns on the light if I’m too busy making dinner. But I suspect it’s because the small fortune that was already spent to revive our sorry tank was insufficient. He’s vying for another investment. I think he just like spending money that isn’t his. But seriously, the last thing I need is some other living thing that can blame me for its suffering and misery.

The one benefit to the new fish obsession is the 1.5 hour round trip to the fish store that I get to skip. That’s a little slice of me-time. I like to fill it with super fun things like laundry and food shopping. I know, I’m a wild woman.

I was feeling a little guilty that I didn’t show any enthusiasm for the newest pets. I mean, it’s not their fault they’ve come to live with us. So I decided to make some homemade fish food. Then I found a few recipes and decided if they love the fish so much, they can make them fresh food. Homeaquaria.com has five different recipes, at varying levels of “eww-I’m-not-putting-that-in-my-blender.” They can have at it.