Don't be like Molly ~ Part One

It really is time that I finally tell this story.  I’ve alluded to it before (in the post found here), but at that moment I was trying hard not to get side-tracked (trailing off-topic is a real problem for me, and sometimes I get so far down the rabbit-trail that I have trouble making my way back to the point, if I ever even do, and that makes the story confusingly hard to follow…) and in that newsletter the spotlight was on another of our aquarium friends, Phelps, who needed her chance in the spotlight.  Alas, this is a tale that deserves its own feature; it needs to be told in full.  So without further ado: Don’t be like Molly~

It’s no secret that I’ve had a lot of pets in my life.  Or that I take pet-parenting seriously.  (see post linked above)  I think it’s also common knowledge that, save maybe cats, fish are one of the easier pets to care for.  Right?

WRONG!  IT’S A LIE!  A TRAP!  DON’T FALL FOR IT!!!

I grew up with goldfish (also previously mentioned) and a mother who helped me take care of them.  Goldfish are great pets, if you don’t mind the work.  Unlike “tropical” fish, they are hardy, and don’t require a heater, a pH tester, an aerator, or really any sort of special treatment.  What they do require is a strong filter, and a lot of cleaning.  

Goldfish will eat just about anything, so feeding them isn’t difficult.  This unprejudiced appetite, however, does mean that they tend to put out a lot more “waste” than most other fish - they poop a lot.  So keeping the water fresh and the “waste material” to a minimum is really the biggest task when it comes to keeping them.  And the bigger the fish, the bigger the “waste” and the bigger the task.

I bought my first daughter goldfish when she was about two years old, and began taking care of them for her as my mom had for me.  First in a small bowl with daily water changes.  Then in a small filtered tank.  Then a larger tank.  And then an even bigger one, with a bigger filter…

Fast forward 9 years

By the time my oldest was 10 years old, and my youngest was about to celebrate her 5th birthday, I was beyond “out-numbered.”  Each day was a battle against filth, chaos and anarchy.  My best chance for success (or at least minimal failure) was to get up before the sun, promptly ingest copious amounts of coffee while performing triage on the to-do list, and then just not stop moving until I crashed to bed after the kids were asleep.  Meals were eaten on my feet, reading lessons were taught while I was folding laundry, and anything unnecessary was omitted.  I stopped scrap-booking and writing, and only allowed myself one constructive hobby - baking.  Even so, I was finding my days more full of chores than hours, and always looking to make things a bit more efficient.  I had long since stopped sorting laundry by color and folding the fitted sheets.  I was now also “streamlining” (a word that made me feel more productive rather than less) the cleaning into a rotation of “weekly”, “semi-weekly” and “monthly” tasks, and reducing the garden and flower beds to the basics.  

In spite of all of this, my strong-willed and spunky children often questioned my parenting, and wondered - aloud when they were looking to start trouble - what kind of a mother didn’t have time to make a batch of fresh chocolate chip cookies for her children, or let them have sleepovers every weekend.  Was I a terrible mother?  I hoped not…  I mean, all four of my children were alive and healthy, and that was no small feat some days.

By this time our current goldfish were all about the same age as my youngest child, and had grown to a very respectable size.  They were fantails, the largest about 8” long with flowing fins, and they were gorgeous.

They were the biggest fish I’d ever had.  Which means they pooped SO much.  In spite of a top-notch filter, the tank needed weekly water changes and a monthly deep-cleaning to keep them healthy and thriving.  Which I did, for many years.

Until one fateful day, when I was deep cleaning the tank and was interrupted by yet another Urgent-Kid-Need, and accidentally left the fish in their temporary containers for a little too long.  Their health began to deteriorate before I could finish the cleaning, refill the tank, and bring the water to acceptable temperature.  I hoped for the best, but they expired, one at a time, over the next 24 hours.  It was a sad day.  They were really the most beautiful goldfish I’d ever owned.  I knew that it would take years to grow up another tank-full like the one we’d just lost.  And they were so large that they couldn’t be flushed, so I had to take them outside and bury them.  

I had let the goldfish die.  GOLDFISH!  You know, the species that is an invasive problem because people practically can’t kill them and then release them into lakes and ponds where they live in muck and grow to the size of small dogs.  *I* had managed to kill them.  Maybe my kids were onto something about my parenting abilities…

By the time this whole debacle was all over with, I was thinking that lower maintenance fish might be preferable.  Tropical fish, I was told, did require a heater and attention to pH, but usually didn’t need the rigorous cleaning that goldfish required.  So I did a little research, and thought we’d give it a try.  I procured the heater, pH strips, and fresh tank décor.  We (meaning me at the mercy of four needy children who were trying to “help”) got the aquarium all ready, and then, on May 31, 2016, we went fish shopping.  

That adventure is forever recorded for the world on facebook.  I bet you can already spot where this tale is headed…

As the post suggests, we did go find the perfect sword-tail (and two more neon tetras) to complete the collection.  It was beautiful.  My ancient phone-pics definitely didn’t do it justice.  

My personal favorite was the snail, Captain Speedy R. McFancypants.  (The R was for Ronald from Harry Potter.)  He was pretty glorious, as far as gastropods go.

And that is how, instead of more goldfish, we ended up with a tank full of a variety of tropical fish that I knew relatively little about, but were supposed to be able to thrive together.  And they did.  Oh boy, they did… 

Noteworthy fact #1: Some of these species are live-bearers; a thought that had never even come close to crossing my mind, as my only experience was with goldfish, which are not.  

Noteworthy fact #2: These fish were specially selected as the healthiest looking specimens available, including a jolly fat molly.

To be continued…