Day 97: Only one survived

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 97: Only one survived

A few days ago, I wrote a blog about one of our goldfish that was near death. For three days he lay at the bottom of the tank not moving. Dieter wanted to end his suffering by flushing him, but I said no, let’s wait until he’s dead.

https://underthetorontosun.blogspot.com/2019/11/day-91-dont-be-too-quick-to-flush.html

Then on the morning of the fourth day, that fish started moving and that same afternoon he started swimming and made a full recovery. We were so happy that he was well again. Then just when we thought we were in the clear, tragedy struck.

Yesterday, the fish suddenly died. A second one followed, and a third and a fourth. All within the span of one hour. We have no idea what happened. So far one fish survived.

Now I’m wondering if I’m to blame.

A few days ago, I read on article online that fish, goldfish and tropical fish, can be fed human foods. That they like fruits such as bananas, grapes, strawberries, and veggies such as cooked broccoli and lettuce.

Since I wanted to give my fish a treat, I dropped a small piece of banana in the tank. One by one they pecked at it and before long the banana piece was gone. I gave them another piece of banana the next day and the next day. Then suddenly the fish were dying.

So, by giving the fish banana, did I poison them? Part of me thinks yes, another part thinks no. I also gave small pieces of banana to the goldfish in another tank and all those fish are fine. If the banana was toxic to fish, those fish would have died too.

To make matters worse, all this happened while a Facebook friend was being featured on Twitter. I was looking forward to that session, thinking that I could learn something from it, but with one fish after another dying, I just wasn’t in the mood.

Some might say … it’s only fish, and in a way it’s true, a fish dying is not the same as a cat or dog dying, but still … it’s a life lost, or in this case, four lives lost. It's kind of sad because doesn’t everyone like to live?

Day 93: A fishy story

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 93: A fishy story

A few days ago, I posted that one of our goldfish was near death. For 72 hours he lay on the bottom of the tank, ready to go to the big ocean in the sky. Then suddenly, he started eating, moving and attempted swimming. Today that fish is as good as new.

I never actually considered myself a fish person. Whenever I visited someone who had an aquarium, I thought it pretty and calming, but never thought of getting an aquarium myself. And then one day, things changed.

It started so innocently. We were in a pet store shopping for cat food, I happen to wander into the fish section and came across a giant tank full of tiny goldfish.

While the other fish tanks had between two to fifty fish in them and were beautifully decorated with gravel and plants, this tank held hundreds of fishes and had no decorations at all. 

When I asked the salesman about this, he said “These are feeding fish.”

Feeding fish? He explained that these fish were primarily used to feed the other fish. I wash shocked. Their only purpose was to die! Well, I couldn’t save them all, but I could save one. So I left the pet store with ten cans of cat food, one plastic fish tank, and one goldfish.

Back home the fish went into the tank and we named him Blub. People told me that Blub wouldn’t live long. Goldfish, by nature, don’t have a long life and since Blub was a feeding fish and very small he most probably wouldn’t last more than a few days.

Well, they were wrong. Not only did Blub live longer than a few days, over the next few months he outgrew his tank. So, we got a bigger tank, and when that one became too small, we got an even bigger one. We also got Blub a friend, a beautiful white and orange goldfish and named her Cinderella.

Blub and Cinderella lived happily for four years and then one day, Cinderella died. Two days later Blub died too. So now we had two big glass tanks, but no fish.

In the years that followed a variety of fish housed in those tanks. Goldfish, tropical fish, we even had a couple of mini lobsters. 

None of them lived very long. When we were tired of spending money on tropical fish, I went back to basics and got twelve feeding fish, six for each tank.

That was four years ago, and all the fish are doing fine, including the one who was near death for three days. My guess is, he wasn’t sick at all, those who attacked him injured him and he just needed time to heal.

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Day 91: Don’t be too quick to flush

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 91: Don’t be too quick to flush

Earlier this week we noticed that one of our goldfish wasn't doing well. We have six in a tank, four gold, and two white ones, and for some reason, three of the gold ones were attacking the fourth one.

For almost three years or so everything went fine and now suddenly they were ganging up on this fish. Maybe the gold ones were all males and she was the only golden female, maybe the gold ones were all female and he was the only male, maybe he/she had done something to upset the others, who know, either way, there was an upset in the tank.

We decided to separate them. Dieter got a pot, scooped some water out of the tank and then removed the unfortunate fish from the tank and deposited him in the pot. He lay on his side and it looked like the end was near. I didn’t think he would make it through the night.

Fishy proved me wrong. When I went to check on him the next morning, not only was he still alive but he moved a little bit. We decided to move him to another tank. We have a second tank in the kitchen with four goldfish in it.

After putting the fish in that tank, he promptly sank to the bottom. And there he lay, on his side, on the smooth white and blue glass stones. Poor thing, he looked so miserable. The other fish left him alone though, so it was decided to leave the fish there. Let him die among friends.

During the day I kept an eye on him and it didn’t look good. If he was to die, he put up one hell of a fight. At dinnertime I sprinkled some food in the tank, and would you believe it, the fish actually straightened up to eat a little.

The next morning I once again checked if he had given up the fight, but no, he was still alive. He lay in a corner behind some bushes, but he was still breathing.

“Shall I flush him? Put him out of his misery,” Dieter wondered.

“Of course not,” I said, “he’s alive. You can’t flush a live fish!”

And it’s a good thing we didn’t. Today, that fish is alive and well.

So, the next time one of your fish looks a bit off-color, don’t be so quick to flush him. A change of environment might be all that’s needed.

Day 121: Cat toys

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 121: Cat toys

When we adopted Halley in January of this year, her foster mother gave us an array of her toys. Out of all of them, colorful plastic springs were her favorites.

Today, five months later all those springs have disappeared. Not one, not two, but all of them. If you recommend looking under the lounge chairs, that’s the first place where we looked. We also looked under cabinets, behind cabinets, under the beds … those springs have vanished.

To make up for these lost items I’ve ordered a packet of 10 springs from Amazon, a spinning ball, and some fish.

The springs

The springs I ordered haven’t arrived yet, but Jackie (Halley’s foster mom) send over some to keep Halley entertained. They weren’t even out of the packet yet when they had Halley’s full attention. As far as she was concerned, we couldn’t get them out of the packet quick enough, and once one was out and given to her, she took it in her mouth and immediately took off with it.

She batted it around, slap it from here to there, rolled it and chased it and had a great time. Of course, eventually the spring rolled under the sofa and Halley crouched down low to see where it was. She tried to reach the spring with her paw, but it was no use. So, Dieter to the rescue. He shone a light under the sofa while I tried the retrieve the spring with a long wooden spoon. When the spring was rescued, Halley once again took off with it. Until the next time and then ‘operation rescue’ starts all over again.

The ball

The ball is a hit, with Halley that is. Gabriel, Charlotte, and Holly haven’t played with it yet. To be fair, they haven’t had a chance to play with the ball. As soon as it gets switched on, Halley monopolizes the toy. Gabriel observes the game while perched on the cat tree while Charlotte seems afraid of it. Then again, Charlotte is afraid of just about everything, including her own shadow. As for Holly, when the ball is still she bats it around, but as soon as it’s switched on, she keeps her distance. Halley, on the other hand, is all over the ball. She’s still a big kitten and kittens are generally afraid of nothing.

The fish

When I pulled the fish out of the Amazon envelope, I got the fright of my life. I didn’t know what was in the envelope, so when confronted with these three huge, lifelike fish staring up at me, my heart skipped a beat. Gabriel, Charlotte, Holly, and Halley love them of course. The only problem is, there are four cats and only three fish.

Fortunately, Halley is more interested in her colorful springs, so she’s not really that interested in the fish.

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The fish and the Visa bill - Part II

It happened again. One of the goldfish jumped out of the tank. In all the years we’ve had exotic fish and goldfish we’ve never had any incidents with them, but now it seems we have an athlete in the family.

It happened last Friday night. I suddenly heard a plonk and noticed a goldfish on the floor. Since the tank is an upright on a stand, the poor thing had fallen about four feet (120 cm). 

At first I scooped up the fish with my hands, but slimy and slippery as he was, he wiggled himself free. So once again it was the Visa bill to the rescue.

Dieter thought he would die, after all after a fall of such a height he might have sustained an injury. I couldn’t argue with that, at the very least the fish might be concussed.

Still, I deposited him back in the water, where he sank like a stone and lay on the bottom of the tank. He was not dead though, I could see his mouth opening and closing, so if he was breathing he was alive.

While the fish recuperated I went online to find out why fish jump out of their tank. Some of the reasons were listed as:

• ·      The water being too warm
• ·      The water being too acidy
• ·      The water lacking oxygen

In this case the water was definitely not too warm, since the tank had just been cleaned the acid level was correct and since the other fish were swimming at mid-level and the bottom of the tank rather than the top, there seemed nothing wrong with the oxygen level.

There was another reason listed … fish tend to jump out of the tank because they are bored. If that is the reason, we’ve got problems. What am I supposed to do? Reposition the tank so the fish can watch TV?

Anyway, to prevent further accidents, Dieter covered the top of the tank with clear duct tape, leaving just enough space for fresh water to flow into the tank and for feeding.

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The fish and the Visa bill

I’ve never been particularly fond of fish. After all, they swim all day in a tank of water and there is no human interaction whatsoever. They most one can expect is that they come to the surface at feeding time.

Still, when Dieter came home with a goldfish and a blue plastic pot, we welcomed the fish into our home and called him Blub.

It didn’t take long for us to realize that Blub deserved better than some cheap pot and so we went to the pet store for a proper tank.

Not only did Blub have more room to swim, he had a castle and colorful vegetation around it. Still, roomy and beautiful as his surroundings were, something was missing … company. So we got Blub a few friends.

From there on, it sort of snowballed. Fish came and went and when a friend noticed our enthusiasm for fish, he donated a tank he no longer used. Now we had two tanks. One tank for goldfish and the other tank for tropical fish.

Everything went fine until last month all fish in the goldfish died. Within 24 hours the entire group was wiped out. Cause unknown.

The tank was drained, cleaned, filled again with water and left standing for five days. Yesterday new fish were bought and deposited in the tank. Seven goldfish. I remarked to Dieter that, in addition to the seven goldies, he should have bought one white fish. Then we could have called then … Snow white and the seven dwarfs.

Just hours after depositing the fish in the tank, we had a bit of drama. After spending some time on the balcony, I came inside and noticed Gabriel, Holly and Mickey clustered around something gold and shiny near the fish tank on the floor. I wondered if I had dropped a ring or a pendent.

Upon closer inspection the something gold and shiny was a goldfish. Immediately there was pandemonium.

“Dieter! Get in here!”

“What is that?”

“What does it look like, it’s a fish.”

“Is it dead?”

“I don’t know. Get me a piece of paper or something.”

“Why?”

“To pick it up.”

“Can’t you pick it up with your fingers?”

“No, a fish is slippery, I can’t get a grip on it. Get me some paper! And hurry!”

Why the big rush, that fish is dead, he’s not moving. Who knows how long he’s been there.”

The fish indeed just lay three. He must have jumped out of the tank and judging by the wet spots, flapped around to where he was now, laying perfectly still.

Not one to give up without a fight, I urged Dieter again to get some paper. After quick look around he grabbed Visa bill.

Without a fight the fish allowed himself to be scooped up.

“Shall I put him in the toilet?” Dieter asked.

“NO!” I said, “put him back in the tank.”

“But he’s dead.”

“You don’t know that. Put him in the water, if he sinks you can scoop him out and get rid of him but you have to give him a chance.”

The fish was deposited in the water with a plop and … happily swam away.

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Would you believe .....

Many years ago, we had a cat named Pitoe. 

Pitoe was a hybrid, his mother was a Persian, his father was a gigolo. The result was a very affectionate, white, long-haired cat with blue eyes.

Being an indoor cat, Pitoe was a pampered pussycat. He slept ‘till noon in a soft basket, had lots of toys, and was fed the best food. For exercise, and fresh air, he was walked a few times a week in the yard on a leash. Not that he did much walking. He preferred to roll around in the sun on the driveway, or smell the flowers of his favorite shrub (I think it might have been catnip).

One morning I went to the garage and saw a small mouse sitting on the front tire of my car. I scooped up the little thing and holding it cupped in both hands, I went inside to show Pitoe. Just to show him, mind you, nothing else.

OMG was that a mistake. When I opened my hands so Pitoe could peer inside, he took off like a bat from hell. He literally sprinted from the kitchen, dashed through the living room, only to disappear to my bedroom, where I found him hiding under my bed.

Okay, so Pitoe suffered from musophobia.

If you think that’s bad, it gets better.

Meet Gabriel ...

Gabriel is a ragdoll, and he suffers from ichthyophobia, which is fear of fish. Seriously, we have a hexagon aquarium with ten goldfish, and it sends poor Gabe into a flat spin. While Holly likes to sit on a chair and watch the fishes, Gabriel won’t go near them.

Actually, I must correct myself. Yesterday, for some reason, Gabriel scraped all his courage together and jumped on the chair near the aquarium. His decision to face his fear only lasted seconds. As he sat in front of the glass tank, he did not only look at the fishes, several fishes came to look at him, and that was too much for Gabe. He bolted off the chair and went into hiding.

Finally, meet Holly.

Holly is also a product of a Ragdoll who met a gigolo. She’s a happy go lucky girl, who – although the youngest – rules the roost. She has one weakness though ... she suffers from a severe case of ornithophobia, fear of birds.

You would think that cats are fascinated by birds, love them even, but apparently Holly is the exception.

My neighbors across the hall recently acquired a bird, you see. A little parrot to be more specific. The bird doesn’t talk yet, he peeps, or tweets, whatever you want to call it, and Holly doesn’t like it one single bit.
She’s alright with the calls of the bird while she’s inside, but the other day were walking up and down the corridor – for her daily exercise – when she heard the bird screech and she panicked.

As fast as her little legs would carry her she set a new a new record in the 50 meter dash, pushed open the door of our condo with her head, and went into hiding in the bathroom.

Would you believe that cats can suffer from phobias? You bet they do.

Accidental or deliberate?

Last night Gabriel joined me in bed, as he does every night.  As usual he wanted to have his head rubbed, his belly tickled and his head rubbed some more. 

Usually he sleeps late (as I do) and we get up together.  Not this morning though.  I woke up from a scratching on the door, followed by “Meow, meow”.

“Ssst,” I shushed sleepy.

This didn’t work, Gabriel cried and kept on crying, he pleas getting louder and louder.

“Gabriel,” I said, “come back to bed and go to sleep.”  In reply he scratched the door some more and let out another couple of “meows”.

“Gaaaaaabriel,” I groaned, “pleeeeease!  It’s too early, come back to bed.”

Gabriel wouldn’t hear of it and meowed more insistent than before.

“GABRIEL!” I yelled, now fully awake.  “What is it with you?  It’s too early."

 
“Meow” he said in response.

I could have just gotten up and let him out of my bedroom, but it’s was so warm in bed and I wasn’t quite ready to leave, even if it was only for a few seconds.

To my relief Gabriel left his spot by the door and jumped on my bed.  He didn’t curl up though, he stepped on the bed’s headboard and sat there.

I turned over, snuggled under the covers and was just about to doze off when something hard landed right snack on my head.   A stone duck was the culprit, knocked down courtesy of Gabriel he couldn’t keep his paws to himself.  He knocked that duck down to get back at me for not letting him out.   

Accidental or deliberate?  One thing is for sure, when he start meowing tomorrow, I’ll open the door, who knows what else he has in mind.

From there on my day didn’t exactly get better. 

While I was working on the computer later on, I suddenly heard a “tonk”, followed by “splat, splat, splat”.  I was still trying to figure out what the strange noise was when I noticed something moving on Dieter’s nigh stand, where he keeps a fish tank.

On the night stand was a tiny fish, flipping and flapping like crazy.  I immediately rushed to the rescue, but picking up a tiny, slippery fish proved more difficult than I expected.  After a couple of futile attempts I resorted to wiping the fish with one hand into my other hand.  Much like one would brush crumbs off a table.

I worked and once I had the fish I deposited him back into the water.  Oh my heart, my poor heart.  Even though I managed to stay calm during a crisis, once it was over I nearly went horizontal.

I had to tell someone, I had to share this near horrible experience.  So I called the owner of the fish, Dieter.  And what did he do when I told him the horrible tale?  Not what I expected.  He wasn’t shocked, he wasn’t worried, he wasn’t even sympathetic, he … burst out laughing.  Thought the whole thing too funny.  He even posted it on Facebook!

First a cat, then a fish … maybe I should stick to a bird or something.