this post was written before the death of my grandmother. please excuse the lack of tact in regards to blarfing about a dead fish instead of grandma. oh, and happy halloween.
-------
A Shark Tale: Too Good For The Toilet
my first bala shark, or Balantiocheilus melanopterus, came home from the pet store two years ago. i fell in love with the faux sharkieness--the tall dorsal fin, bright silver body, and that almost cartoonish face. i loved the way he stayed perfectly still with the slightest flit of his fins, only to dart off to another spot with Jaws-like presence. but as imposing as he was, he was still the most easy-going and friendliest fish in the tank. he immediately became my favorite fish. mark was staying with me at that time; he named him Sharkie. (you'll notice the three of us are listed as contributors here on the blarf.)
sharkie and i were fast friends. we were the men of men. ladies men. kings of the bachelor pad. we ruled.
then Sharkied died.
i later determined that every time i bought a new fish, sharkie was getting sick from the water that came with the new fish. on top of that, sharkie was weak from years of smoking and boozing, so it didn't take much to put him over the edge and into the toilet bowl.
but no fear! Sharkie II moved in soon after. and then he died.
and THEN, i got three more balas--a small, a medium, and a large. the small one lasted a few months before his untimely disappearance. i assume foul play was involved.
but the large and medium balas lived on. i briefly named them Spike and Chester from the looney tunes. the names didn't stick.
the original Chester and Spike
Sharkie III and Sharkie IV were quite a pair. along with their bulging tankmates, they grew to great lengths until they outgrew the 20 gallon aquarium. When i moved to my new apartment, they got a new apartment as well--a 55 gallon tank. swank! that was about a year and a half ago.
new apartment, new tank!
Sharkie III--he was the big guy. by the time i left that apartment and moved all the fish back home with me, he had grown quite large. he was about 7" long, which isn't bad for a bala. a full-size bala can be up to 15" long with the right sized tank, and i had every intention of letting him grow that large. but Sharkie III had a problem.
as a rule, balas are about the most easy-going fish you could have. they are pretty chill, even with other more-aggressive fish. a bala is kinda like the big kid in school who has the teddy bear personality. but the problem with balas is they like to jump. without a sturdy cover, your balas will be jumping in and out of the water like they are trying out for jobs at Sea World.
this was Sharkie III's problem. i have a full cover on my aquarium, save for just a little space around the water filters. Sharkie III happened to find that little space one night and jumped clear of the tank and started flopping around on the floor. i heard a noise upstairs where the tank was and assumed it was one of the cats doing some kind of stupid cat bullshit that cats do. after a couple minutes, mom came out of the bedroom after hearing the same noise and discovered Sharkie there on the floor, doing his best to find water that wasn't there. mom yelled to me and i immediately came to the rescue.
Sharkie was shaken but not stirred. but for about a week, he didn't eat and did a lot of hiding. i assume he didn't eat because he couldn't SEE anything--his eyes were scratched and cloudy from the bouncing around on the rough floor. it looked like it might be permanant damage, but after a week or so, his eyes cleared up and he was back to normal. he was one lucky little shark, because there is no one available for rescue for about 20 of every 24 hours. he was lucky it happened when it did and that mom heard him.
my big tank
he demonstrated his next trick when i was cleaning the tank one evening. i had just moved all of the fish temporarily to a 5 gallon bucket, and before i could put the metal grate over the bucket, Sharkie jumped about 3 feet into the air, did a 180, and dove back in, with the grace and skill of Greg Louganis (and without the gayness.) it was pretty cool, but yet another clue that Sharkie needed to be caged.
it was on another tank-cleaning evening that Sharkie III wasn't so lucky.
he, and all the others, including Sharkie IV, were again in the 5 gallon pail. all of the live plants were in there too, and the grate was in place. the grate is a cookie cooling rack that weighs at least half a pound and should keep just about any fish in the bucket, or so i thought. i was downstairs in the bathroom scrubbing algae and tank skank off of the filters & decorations when mom again told me that i had a fish out. as i feared, it was Sharkie III again. this time, he was at the bottom of the stairs, and he was not moving. one of the bastard cats was sniffing him, so i shoo'ed the cat bastard away as i scooped Sharkie up and raced him back to the tank. luckily the tank still had water in it after i'd taken everything out. it would be the perfect place to revive him.
only this time Sharkie wasn't coming back.
since fish don't have eyelids, he looked fine. but he was lifeless. gliding him back and forth in the water did nothing. his gills didn't move. neither did his beautiful black and gold fins, save for a slight nerve tremor.
Sharkie was gone.
i have to assume the fall down the stairs is what did him in, since fish are not designed to plummet 10 feet straight down a stairwell. and how he did that remains a mystery. the grate was knocked slightly off the bucket, giving him enough room to squeeze by during a flying leap. but the only way to get to get to the stairwell would have been to jump up on top of a chest covered with stacks of clothes, through a set of shelves, behind the couch, and then down the stairwell to his death. it was one of those million-to-one chances that actually happened.
Sharkie III, at about half his later size
i was pretty bummed. i put a lot of work into that shark. he was cool. so cool, in fact, that i couldn't bear to flush him. so i actually buried him in the backyard, next to the dog. i've never buried a fish before, and it seemed crazy, but i didn't have any alternatives. Sharkie was Too Good for the Toilet. i buried a good shark that night. it sucked.
after the funeral, i vowed to search for a shark as big as III, but it'll never be the same, no matter what the size. plus, i'm still dreading the day one of the grandkids whacks the aquarium with a baseball bat so the water & fish cascade down the stairs like spawning salmon. until then, Sharkie IV is the king of the tank, but he has some big fins to fill. i gave him a pep talk, but only time will tell if he can handle the job.
BUG THE GOAT'S PROVERB O' THE DAY: "good sharks don't die, they just jump down the stairs."
--whatever the hell that means.
to all those dead fishies out there--all drains lead to the sea! good luck.
-------
A Shark Tale: Too Good For The Toilet
my first bala shark, or Balantiocheilus melanopterus, came home from the pet store two years ago. i fell in love with the faux sharkieness--the tall dorsal fin, bright silver body, and that almost cartoonish face. i loved the way he stayed perfectly still with the slightest flit of his fins, only to dart off to another spot with Jaws-like presence. but as imposing as he was, he was still the most easy-going and friendliest fish in the tank. he immediately became my favorite fish. mark was staying with me at that time; he named him Sharkie. (you'll notice the three of us are listed as contributors here on the blarf.)
sharkie and i were fast friends. we were the men of men. ladies men. kings of the bachelor pad. we ruled.
then Sharkied died.
i later determined that every time i bought a new fish, sharkie was getting sick from the water that came with the new fish. on top of that, sharkie was weak from years of smoking and boozing, so it didn't take much to put him over the edge and into the toilet bowl.
but no fear! Sharkie II moved in soon after. and then he died.
and THEN, i got three more balas--a small, a medium, and a large. the small one lasted a few months before his untimely disappearance. i assume foul play was involved.
but the large and medium balas lived on. i briefly named them Spike and Chester from the looney tunes. the names didn't stick.
the original Chester and Spike
Sharkie III and Sharkie IV were quite a pair. along with their bulging tankmates, they grew to great lengths until they outgrew the 20 gallon aquarium. When i moved to my new apartment, they got a new apartment as well--a 55 gallon tank. swank! that was about a year and a half ago.
new apartment, new tank!
Sharkie III--he was the big guy. by the time i left that apartment and moved all the fish back home with me, he had grown quite large. he was about 7" long, which isn't bad for a bala. a full-size bala can be up to 15" long with the right sized tank, and i had every intention of letting him grow that large. but Sharkie III had a problem.
as a rule, balas are about the most easy-going fish you could have. they are pretty chill, even with other more-aggressive fish. a bala is kinda like the big kid in school who has the teddy bear personality. but the problem with balas is they like to jump. without a sturdy cover, your balas will be jumping in and out of the water like they are trying out for jobs at Sea World.
this was Sharkie III's problem. i have a full cover on my aquarium, save for just a little space around the water filters. Sharkie III happened to find that little space one night and jumped clear of the tank and started flopping around on the floor. i heard a noise upstairs where the tank was and assumed it was one of the cats doing some kind of stupid cat bullshit that cats do. after a couple minutes, mom came out of the bedroom after hearing the same noise and discovered Sharkie there on the floor, doing his best to find water that wasn't there. mom yelled to me and i immediately came to the rescue.
Sharkie was shaken but not stirred. but for about a week, he didn't eat and did a lot of hiding. i assume he didn't eat because he couldn't SEE anything--his eyes were scratched and cloudy from the bouncing around on the rough floor. it looked like it might be permanant damage, but after a week or so, his eyes cleared up and he was back to normal. he was one lucky little shark, because there is no one available for rescue for about 20 of every 24 hours. he was lucky it happened when it did and that mom heard him.
my big tank
he demonstrated his next trick when i was cleaning the tank one evening. i had just moved all of the fish temporarily to a 5 gallon bucket, and before i could put the metal grate over the bucket, Sharkie jumped about 3 feet into the air, did a 180, and dove back in, with the grace and skill of Greg Louganis (and without the gayness.) it was pretty cool, but yet another clue that Sharkie needed to be caged.
it was on another tank-cleaning evening that Sharkie III wasn't so lucky.
he, and all the others, including Sharkie IV, were again in the 5 gallon pail. all of the live plants were in there too, and the grate was in place. the grate is a cookie cooling rack that weighs at least half a pound and should keep just about any fish in the bucket, or so i thought. i was downstairs in the bathroom scrubbing algae and tank skank off of the filters & decorations when mom again told me that i had a fish out. as i feared, it was Sharkie III again. this time, he was at the bottom of the stairs, and he was not moving. one of the bastard cats was sniffing him, so i shoo'ed the cat bastard away as i scooped Sharkie up and raced him back to the tank. luckily the tank still had water in it after i'd taken everything out. it would be the perfect place to revive him.
only this time Sharkie wasn't coming back.
since fish don't have eyelids, he looked fine. but he was lifeless. gliding him back and forth in the water did nothing. his gills didn't move. neither did his beautiful black and gold fins, save for a slight nerve tremor.
Sharkie was gone.
i have to assume the fall down the stairs is what did him in, since fish are not designed to plummet 10 feet straight down a stairwell. and how he did that remains a mystery. the grate was knocked slightly off the bucket, giving him enough room to squeeze by during a flying leap. but the only way to get to get to the stairwell would have been to jump up on top of a chest covered with stacks of clothes, through a set of shelves, behind the couch, and then down the stairwell to his death. it was one of those million-to-one chances that actually happened.
Sharkie III, at about half his later size
i was pretty bummed. i put a lot of work into that shark. he was cool. so cool, in fact, that i couldn't bear to flush him. so i actually buried him in the backyard, next to the dog. i've never buried a fish before, and it seemed crazy, but i didn't have any alternatives. Sharkie was Too Good for the Toilet. i buried a good shark that night. it sucked.
after the funeral, i vowed to search for a shark as big as III, but it'll never be the same, no matter what the size. plus, i'm still dreading the day one of the grandkids whacks the aquarium with a baseball bat so the water & fish cascade down the stairs like spawning salmon. until then, Sharkie IV is the king of the tank, but he has some big fins to fill. i gave him a pep talk, but only time will tell if he can handle the job.
BUG THE GOAT'S PROVERB O' THE DAY: "good sharks don't die, they just jump down the stairs."
--whatever the hell that means.
to all those dead fishies out there--all drains lead to the sea! good luck.
