Ok, so she doesn't have a name at the moment, or at least not a new name. She's a hand-me-down fish from a trainer at the barn, the woman who helped me find someone to lease Rio. She took in this fish, a female betta originally named "Barbie" by a five-year-old girl, several months ago.
Barbie got booted this week, though, because after living peacefully in a community fish tank, she turned into a serial killer and ate one guppy and seven shrimp just this week. The trainer, Mariam, was looking for someone to take her in, and I've always had a good time with bettas, so I offered to take her. Mariam's husband was the one who called her "that bitch" after her final killing, and I'm waiting for inspiration to strike before I name her again.
As you can see, girlfriend's scales are pulling apart because she ate so much. She's also got a nice gut hanging there, but hopefully she can do well on her own.
From the moment I brought her home, Fenway was excited. I had bettas before I had him, so his only fish experience is mooching seafood off my plate. He would rear up to peer in at the fish a bit better, but I tried to dissuade him from doing this because I could just see him knocking it over somehow and me being a fish killer. I eat a lot of fish, but I don't want to be responsible for the killing myself.
It's like cat TV. He spends half his time turning, wherever he is in the living room, so he can fix his gaze on the bookshelf. I did buy a new tank with a lid, since my others were open-topped, and I'm hoping that since the tank has yet to be sabotaged, we can all get along.
And while I don't have any photos of Little Jens Voigt, the last betta fish I had (who lived at home as well as on my desk at the Business Press until one day he died and was ceremoniously flushed in the middle stall of the upstairs ladies' bathroom), here's a photo of Noel, my first beta. I got him the first week of my junior year of college, and he lived until my summer internship in grad school. He grew to be massive, almost the size of this new fish, but he never ate other fish and he never got a gut. He did, however, fly home with me during Christmas and summer breaks when I was in college, and my senior year he largely lived on my desk in the newsroom at school. I would put him in a Gatorade bottle and take him on the plane with me, riding in the seat pocket. This was back in the golden days of terrorist watches, when you could still take liquids on planes. They always swabbed his bottle for explosives, but I think the TSA agents got a kick out of seeing some college girl carrying her fish everywhere. I was a dork. I still am a dork. I still think Noel was the best betta ever.
2 comments:
Fenway is so BIG (and fluffy)! Does the fish have a name yet? If not, I vote for 'flora' unless you're sticking with the pro-cyclist theme (after, may he rest in peace, Jens V.), then I vote for Maggie (after Magnus Backstedt. Hey, she's a big fish.
Yeah, he grew into a big cat! I love that you can't see his back legs when he sits through all the floof, too. I decided one name will be Roubaix, since the Paris-Roubaix was done Sunday, and to call her Ruby. (Plus she's rather Rubenesque, too!) But Backstedt is a nice last name. Roubaix Backstedt. I like it!
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