Every since little Daniel slipped into the Terry/Walls family, I have found myself wanting something new myself. Kevin has been around for the last ten years and Artie and the girls are all pushing middle age in pet years. It’s hard knowing there’s this new little thing way down south and everyone but me is pinching and hugging his soft little cheeks. I have to make do with some pictures and email updates. Kissing a furry dog head or stubbily husband cheek is not the same but it’s all I got.

I’d get a baby myself if I could sell it on ebay or dump it off at Goodwill once the novelty wore off as I do with most of the results of my strange binges. Fortunately, there are laws against selling/abandoning small children so that pretty much rules out the kid option for me. Kevin has put his foot down on another dog/cat so my options seem to be limited here.

And so, last night, I had a good long talk with myself and I can to the conclusion that I’m ready for another fish.

Oh, didn’t I tell you about my last fish owning experience? It ended in tears and flushing and I cleaned out the tank and trundled the fake plants, colored rock, and heater into the basement to wait until my heart mended.

You see, I had an awesome fish. His name was Bosley and he was a blue beta. When I first bought him, he lived in a very small glass bowl with colored rocks and a single fake plant – no filter, no heater, no bubbly water. He was the Rambo of fish. I would clean his tank only when I could no longer see through the glass. The kitties decided that his bowl was their water dish (I think they liked the fishy taste) so every day they would jump up on the shelf and start drinking away. Good old Bosley would swim under his little plastic plant and stay very very still until the cat left. He was smart that Bosley. He lived for years in his moldly little bowl. Sometimes he’d get feed every day, sometime I’d forget or go out of town for a week but he’d be there, fighting mad when I got back.

After he’d proven his worth, I upgraded to a bigger tank with more rocks and plants and even a few other fish for him to boss about. It was great. Everything was going gang busters until one day I came downstairs and found all three little fishes floating belly up. (Actually, I only found two of the fish and baby Wicks sitting next to the tank, smacking her lips, with her paw in the water trying to fish out the other two floaters.) Bosley wasn’t looking too good either but he hung on for another day fighting valiantly but alas, it was in vain. I watched with my heart in my throat as he’d slowly turn sideways and float to the top of the tank and then rally and swim back to the bottom only to capsize and float to the top. He did this for a whole day and night before his little scaly body finally gave out.

One fish version of the black plague had inflicted my house and in the span of two days, they were all dead. (I secretly blame Josh for this but he adamantly denies all responsibility. I haven’t been able yet to prove his guilt but I’m still watching and waiting for him to slip up and admit his hand in the death of Bosley.)

But it has been a year since the 5 flush salute and I think it might be time for a new beta. I’m thinking of calling him Charlie. I wonder if he’d let me kiss him?