The Stress of a Pet Fish

On Sunday, my "buddy" at work bought his son a pet goldfish.

After promising his son that he wouldn't eat his new pet without permission, they went home with two new fishies, a fish bowl, and some food.

Do people really eat pet goldfish?  Sigh...

On Monday, Buddy turned to me and desperately exclaimed "I forgot to feed the fish!  Do you think the fish will live?  It's my son's first pet."  I was pretty sure that a fish wouldn't die of starvation from only a few hours without food.  I assured him that all would be ok.

What do I know about fish?!  Clearly, not a thing...

On Tuesday, Buddy depressingly walked into his cubicle.  Before mumbling a good morning, he turned to me with his head bowed down in shame.  "My son's fish died.  He wasn't sad because I told him that his fish would get a viking's funeral and be flushed."

I was shocked.  I mean, it was only 8 hours behind it's feeding schedule!

I immediately questioned the fish's living arrangements.  It all seemed somewhat normal.

I'm no fish expert, but something clearly wasn't right here!

In attempt to make my grieving Buddy feel better about disappointing his son, I told him the story about my first pet.

  

My first pet was a goldfish that I named Omlette.  Omlette was a very good fish.  I loved him to bits.  A few days after adopting my new baby, 7 year old Jax took notice that her fish was swimming in it's own poo water.  My OCD didn't like that.  I quickly rescued my fish from the dangers of e-coli by scrubbing him down with soap and a q-tip.  Moments later, my dear Omlette was dead.  Omlette, too, lived out the fate of a viking's funeral down the bowl.

The moral of the story:  Don't take fish advice from Jax.

Did you ever have bad luck with a pet?