Anne-Marie Senior: The delights of goldfish as pets
Oct 16 2010 by Anne-Marie Senior, Huddersfield Daily Examiner
IT STARTED out as a simple reward – alright, a bribe – to encourage my little girl to embrace starting school.
The deal was clear: “Don’t cry during your first week and I’ll buy you a goldfish.” It seemed a cheap and easy incentive, a sort of budget-pet involving the very minimum of care and attention.
After all, I’m sure I’m not the only one who remembers marching home from their local fair as a child, proudly carrying a goldfish prize in a plastic bag. In our house, mum’s best trifle bowl made the perfect home for our finned friends.
The first few days were so exciting, but the novelty soon wore off and within weeks the poor fish became nothing more than a boring daily chore.
By the time they died – usually a few months later – everyone was relieved, not least my mum who was happy to have her favourite bowl back in time for the Christmas trifle.
That was goldfish. So how hard could it be repeating the process with my own little ones?
With a fishy reward at stake, four-year-old Evie didn’t waste any time settling into her new school – minus tears, as my sneaky plan predicted.
When the first weekend arrived, we piled into our car bound for the nearest pet supermarket. The deal was simple. All we needed was a small bowl, a £1.99 fish and some food. So imagine my surprise when I discovered fish have been seeking legal advice since I was a child and had developed rights.
Fish bowls, according to the helpful shop assistant, are now the biggest fish faux-pas out there. Today’s goldfish need a reasonably sized tank, complete with air filter, decorative plants and a pretty little bridge if your budget allows it.
Good honest tap water has also gone out of fishy fashion. As the snobs among us reach for bottled water, it seems fish have done the same, demanding we add chemicals to their water to help balance the chlorine levels.
Goldfish have even got picky about their food, demanding the odd garden pea dropping into their tank every now and then to help their bowel movements.
Cleaning too has evolved, with the basic kitchen sink being replaced by need for a luxury fish tank vacuum cleaners to suck the waste out instead.
And when it comes to buying a fish, forget it. They choose you depending on how many days your tank has being plugged in and whether your water’s pH balance makes the grade.
It was all very complicated – and very expensive. But with two fish-mad kids in tow, we were at their mercy. About £30 later, we emerged from the store equipped with almost every piece of fishy kit – apart from the pet itself.
Like a military operation, we set-up our tank to create the perfect home for our would-be fish. As my husband carefully poured in 42 pints of water mixed with the exact amount of chemicals, I rinsed every pebble and stone with precision to make sure we didn’t poison them.
Three days later, the tank was ready, the water sample passed with flying colours and we were finally allowed to go forth and choose our aquatic pet.
We settled on two, quickly christened Bubbles and Giggles. They seemed happy for the first few hours as the children excitedly peered through the glass at them, watching them swim. But once they had gone to bed, they soon started look a little drunk and lop-sided.
By morning – a mere 12 hours after they arrived – Bubbles and Giggles were dead. Evie was distraught and had to be consoled as she walked to school in floods of tears. The funeral was held after tea. It was a very serious affair involving a hole in the back garden and a few meaningful words.
Our fish tank water was again checked and passed, despite the double tragedy. The next day, fish number three was chosen and named Tickles. He lasted hours before acting drunk and dying on us once more. This time, Evie’s tears were replaced with a disappointed shrug.
Deciding it best to start from scratch again, we emptied the tank, refilled it and allowed a week to pass before trying a different fish shop. Number four and five looked like safe bets, but by morning number five was toppling slightly and was quickly returned to the shop. This time, Evie didn’t even flinch, now accepting the link between goldfish and death.
Finally number six joined number four and they became Bubbles II and Giggles II. They are still alive and flipping, I can happily report. But the novelty of owning a goldfish has probably caused more heartache than happiness in our house, like a way of returning bad karma for my shifty bribe.
It seems so much about life has become more complicated as we are bombarded by new laws, human rights and health and safety regulations. Most of them have helped make our society a safer and fairer place to live.
But if you ask me, when it comes to goldfish, I think we had it sussed with the trifle bowl.
