A fish. We rescued a fish. I know it sounds crazy but it’s really a short story. I had been apartment hunting for weeks and it was seeming like an impossible task to find an apartment that I could afford, that wasn’t a one bedroom, that would take pitbulls. If I’m going to be honest, I was getting pretty desperate. I finally found one in a neighborhood that was on the verge of gentrification that met the requirements, so I went to see it. It was ‘meh’, but I was almost at a deadline so I took it.
I remembered thinking how dirty it was. The refrigerator was filthy, the bathroom walls had what looked like grease drippings, and there were a few items left behind by the former tenants, including a small square fish ‘tank’ with about an inch and a half of dirty, putrid water. I say tank because it probably held eight ounces of water it was so tiny, the kind of cheap plastic container that single beta fighting fish were sold in out of Asian-owned discount stores.
I asked that the apartment be cleaned as I handed over the first months rent and two months security. The slumlord… uh I mean land lord assured me it would be clean. Moving day came and we went about struggling up the narrow staircases to the top floor with the belongings we had managed to keep. Khev picked up the fish tank and I said, “ew they were supposed to throw that out. Flush it and toss that little tank.”
“But mom, it’s alive!”
“It can’t be,” I said, “it was here just like that three weeks ago.” We went back and forth for a while, him insisting it was alive, me asking that he flush it and get back to work. Finally I gave in (as is the case way too much with this youngest child, I’ll admit) and I said, “fine. Put some fresh water in it, whatever.” He raced to the bathroom and slowly filled the square with cool, clear tap water. And the damn fish moved. It literally leaped around in joy as if we had saved it from imminent demise. I couldn’t believe the damn thing was still alive. Khev named him Timmy. Timmy The Rescue Fish.
We went out the next day and bought him his own little one gallon paradise, replete with interesting background, pretty pebbles and an oxygen producing plant for him to hide and rest in. He gets as excited about food as dogs and cats and will swim towards you and follow your finger back and forth in front of the tank. Whenever a curious cat peers in or down into his tank he sinks to the bottom and hangs out just out of reach. And there you have it, along with rescue dogs and cats, we have a pet rescue fish.