I failed to mention that I was on fish-death-watch this weekend. I was reminded by both Nailpolishblues and the Veterinary Head of Pathology that I was to keep an eye on one particular goldfish that had been separated, and if it looked like it was going to cark it, that I should notify SOMEONE, ANYONE, ASAP. I have made it public knowledge (especially at work) that I am not good with keeping goldfish alive (= I accidentally kill them), but I suppose work didn't really have a choice but to trust me. I'm not sure if it's because I'm completely stupid overall or if it's just around animals, but here's one from the archives (from bourbonbird[dot]com) to tide you over. Here's the link for my murderous rampage on snails, too. Just for fun.

(Please excuse the lack of capital letters, I'm an idjit but I can't be arsed fixing it up.)


Sunday, February 13, 2005
'i'm a murderer '

Mood: lucky
Now Playing: 'the luckiest' - ben folds
Topic: weekend


the goldfish at work are getting too fat. my boss had a go at me the other day because i wasn't feeding them - they're fed every day by heavy hands. plus, i'm a self-confessed goldfish murderer, so i'm in no fit state to be minding them. let me explain...

early last year, liz decided it would be motivational and calming to bring goldfish into our office. nobody discussed cleaning the tank or anything like that, and it was settled - we were going to be that crazy office with the crazy fish and we'd all be floating around all zen because WE HAD FISH. menopausal women and their crazy ideas, i tell yeh. *runs*

anyways, the tank started to turn brown, then green, then it started to smell similar to what i'd imagine it'd smell like if i'd crawled into a sweaty man's arsecrack. with lint.

really, there were unidentified floating objects in the tank and it was all a bit rank. eventually, it was cleaned out, but there was a casualty. one of the goldfish had started to flake, and the other stupid fat goldfish were picking away at him, poor bugger. so i volunteered to take him home. i loved him with a passion and called him Uday. i used the old tank we had for our tarantula (rip, you awesome bastard), Flotsam, who has since taken permanent vacation to a lovely blue jar of formaldehyde. it was a big red tank to make Uday go faster. and boy howdy, did he go faster - he cleared up in no time and was swimming with furious action - but with him being a fish and all, it wasn't THAT furious - he still managed huge dangling turds. i even put little toys (like an Egon figurine, Donatello, the slightly suspect Ninja Turtle)in his tank to make him feel better, and we laughed a lot about this crazy world.

then winter came and it was cold. so one day i decided i would surprise Uday by giving him a slightly more tropical environment and made his water lukewarm.

i watched eagerly as i put him in his fresh warm home. he fell in and immediately started scratching for the bottom... i guess i did a pretty good job on the bedrocks, thanks! i went to bed a happy little vegemite - i was Uday's God, and i had given him a whole new world.

what i failed to consider was that, what may be lukewarm to ME may be a *little* warmer for Uday.

i hopped out of bed in the morning, crawling to the kettle to make myself a caffee. waiting around, i went to say good morning to Uday, who i found floating in his little cup-cave...awww, he must be sleeping in!

a rough account of my discombobulated SOC (stream of consciousness) that morning:

'funny, he's a little flaky...maybe i'd put too much of that goldfish-water-dropper fluid in? he'll clear up, i'll clean it out after my caffee and start again...maybe i should give him warmer waters again? he seemed pretty excited last night...oh, look, he's learnt a new trick - he's swimming upside down...wow, his eyes look a bit vacant - definitely too much goldfish-water-dropper fluid.'
i went and had my caffee and fag, and came in to feed him. i put some flakes in and watched.

nothing. tapped the tank a bit.

nothing.

'oh god, he's really sick!'

i tapped a bit more, and he'd come out of his cup-cave and swam up to the flakes.

well...more floated to the top sideways and bobbed casually as i blinked and processed this all in my brain.

Discombobulated SOC #2:

'wow, tired this morning, eh Udes? obviously not too tired to let out a massive fucking turd that's still clinging to your arsehole, you filthy bastard! c'mon, it's the food i normally give...oh...my...gah!!!'

he was SO INCREDIBLY DEAD, and i was MORTIFIED. i couldn't bear to look at him. i waited and kinda glanced over occasionally to watch his steady rate of decay (pretty bloody fast) before i made Matt flush him.

my honest-to-God good intentions to give him a little slice of tropical heaven ended up cooking him.

THIS is why i will have nothing to do with the remaining fish at work.