If you follow this blog you know I’m a cranky dad, a marathon runner and a dog lover. When my better half and I were dating, her dog Chico’s approval helped seal the deal. Chico was more than a pet—he was a friend and my practice child.
Chico’s passing left a void. Esther and I want another dog, but we have too much going on right now. A dog is a major commitment, demanding time and attention we don’t have—plus we have someone who keeps us busy with walks, feedings, and cleaning poop—I’ve been writing about him for almost two years.
This summer Esther, Cristian, and I did the family thing, going to Sesame Place, summer carnivals, and a couple of aquariums. We quickly learned he likes playing in water, but he loves fish. He loved the big tanks at the Long Island Aquarium, the small tanks at Petco, and the movie Finding Dory. You should have seen him freak out when he saw me eating sushi that looked like Nemo.
Cristian’s love of fish had Esther and I considering getting him a fish tank instead of a dog—okay more her than me. One night at the carnival, the decision was made for us. We were playing a game, throwing ping pong balls into small holes when we won a goldfish.
I wasn’t worried, I won goldfish as a kid, they all died and were flushed a week later—but this was different. Before handing me a fish-filled plastic bag, he went into sales mode. “You have a fish in a bag, but do you have a fish bowl? No? For only $10, I’ll give you a fish bowl, a second fish, and I’ll even throw in some fish food. Now how does that sound?”
Walking home, trying not to spill water as I balanced the fish bowl on top of Cristian’s stroller, I wondered what just happened. Did I miss something? We left home planning on letting the baby run around a little, playing a few games, and eating a sausage and pepper hero and maybe some funnel cake. How did we end up with a couple of fish? Good thing we weren’t looking for a used car.
When we got home, my better half started researching home aquariums, aka fish tanks. If you’ve met my wife, you know she’s a big-picture type of person—big goals, big dreams, big ideas. I’m the one who brings her back to earth when she goes off the deep end.
This is usually when I worry about how big a picture. Are we ordering tropical fish, converting a room into a full-sized aquarium, getting a school of piranhas? Okay the piranhas were my idea.
What do I know about fish? I’m a dog person. My family had dogs for as long as I remember. Dad brought home Susy, our first dog, when I was in second or third grade and she lived until a few years after I graduated from college. All I knew about fish was you flush them when they die.
Around the time we flushed our original goldfish into Jamaica Bay, we set up a ten-gallon tank in Cristian’s room, complete with new fish, gravel, and columns. Although fish are lower maintenance than dogs, they aren’t maintenance-free, so instead of waking up early to walk a dog, I’m cleaning a tank every two weeks or so. Saying goodnight to his fish is now part of the baby’s bedtime ritual. It’s not the same as a dog, but for now it will do.
