So, Parker got a goldfish as a party favor from a recent birthday party. It was a fishing party and they actually fished the goldfish out of a kiddie pool and then got to take their fish home in a little bowl with some rocks in the bottom. The mother who put on this party prepped the kids that the fish probably wouldn't live more than a few days, etc. Well, our fish, Josh Goldie Burnett, lived for several weeks and was thriving. Then, mom came in and tried to clean the fish bowl. Mind you, I have done this several times already. (Yes, to this specific bowl and fish.) There was a little too much water in the measuring cup that I was using to refill the bowl, so I thought I would use my hand as a lid and let a little out. Yes, the fish was still in the measuring cup... You can see this happening, right! Out slips the fish and slithers right down the drain, or so we thought. I pulled the black rubber piece out of the bottom of the sink and spotted Josh, and some other rather unpleasant matter. (Time to clean that area of the house.)
So, I don't want to stick my hand down there because its gross. I call Parker. He is the fish's owner after all, and he has smaller hands. He hikes up his sleeve and rescues his fish from down inside the drain. We slip him back into his bowl and he looked good. We thought we had the most resilient goldfish ever born. Then, he started to lean to the side and nose down. Alas, Josh did not make it. Is there such a thing as PTSD for fish?
Lesson learned. I will always remove the fish before trying to pour out more water. I will also always make sure the water is the right temperature before returning fish to the fish tank. (those last six fish that we had taught me that) Yes, I killed six fish about this time last year. Mom is not allowed to clean the fish tank. Shouldn't that be dad's job? Good thing you can't hear fish scream.
So, this morning, we welcomed Josh Goldie Burnett II to our home. He seems happy. I hope he lives.