The Short Life of Fishy Gavin

Most fish go belly up. Not Fishy Gavin, he sank to the glass beaded bottom and stayed there. I flushed him this morning. He didn't float then either. I thought that when I flushed I'd see him swirl around a little before going down the hatch. Maybe if I blurred my eyes it would look like he was swimming one last time. He wasn't much of a floater though, he instantly disappeared down to the bottom of the pipes as soon as he hit the bowl. Since he was no longer visible, I decided to save 5 gallons and not flush. As I left, I crossed my fingers that he wouldn't drift back and shock Anna or Sammie.

So young, scaly and once full of life. I had sat and tried to paint a portrait of Fishy Gavin a week ago. I though he could be my Mona Lisa...

As I attempt to give you a wonderful, full bodied taste of Fishy Gavin's origin Some names will be changed.

Who really knows where these fish come from. I've had friends that meticulously manage their fish with accurate pH balancing, filters, great food in precise measurements and intervals, yet never once do I hear about any of them producing more fish. I'm talking about fish reproduction. I never hear about their fish going into heat, or a litter of little fish babies that gets put in a burlap sack and tossed into the river. I never hear about the SPCA being overrun with fish. I never see PSA's about spaying or neutering your fish. Nevertheless, when over at our friend's house, Jim and Sally for you, we saw a nice dark beta in a nice clean bowl/vase thing with glass beads. An unwanted and rescued fish.

Henry and Athelda, mutual friends, have two kids. Their daughter, nicknamed Bonbon, had won Fishy Gavin, at some school carnival or something. Sally went to visit Athelda and play PS3. While in Athelda's kitchen making hand rolled noodles Sally moved the Cuisinart and saw a filthy plastic zip-lock with a fish. Not just any fish, this was Fishy Gavin and his permanent frown. Henry and Athelda had left the fish in the same bag that he came in for who knows how long, no food and no other betas to fight for weeks. That little fish had to hang in there refusing to die until Sally showed up. His pronounced nostrils the size of a speck of dust, slowly breathing in his own filth. His little fish heart, the size of an aphid's head, beating like a rabbit. Henry and Athelda were ignoring him, refusing to take responsibility, until he died.


I can relate to not wanting to take responsibility. The last thing I wanted was a pet. Pets need names. Pets need food. Pets need space. Pets require walking and petting and/or special water. Any time I have to go out of town for any extended amount of time, I have to find a pet sitter or smuggle the thing on a plane. Anytime I get a spare moment, I have to clean up the pet crap. No one else cleans up the pet. My wife has been begging me to allow some pet in the house for Sammie, since she loves all animals. I caved that night, after hearing fishy Gavin's pathetic little life story and decided that Sammie could have a pet.

After explaining that she couldn't carry her fish in her lap while we drove home, we asked Sammie what her fish's name was. She said Gavin. Gavin is Henry and Athelda's son. He's really the son of the couple that Henry and Athelda are loosely based on. I figured that might change later. However, from then on, he was Fishy Gavin. Sammie loved that fish and begged every day to overfeed it (Gavin got two pieces of food, about the size of a ladybug's gonads once a day). We had lots of fun changing his water occasionally too.

A couple weeks ago I assumed that Fishy Gavin was the impetus for my new craving to paint animalia. However, he moved way to much. So I had to do multiple quick sketches of him, missing out on the fine details, like what he really looks like. The painting was a disaster. I played connect the Fishy Gavin's with some pink line and instead of getting purple from mixing red and blue I got Navy. Being colorblind I didn't much mind, but Anna told me the painting didn't work so I ripped it up and only kept my favorite square.

In the end, I can't really say what killed Fishy Gavin. He was due for a water change, this is true. He ate well the night before according to the girls. It couldn't have been the drop in outdoor temperature since he lived in the warmest room in the apartment. My theory was the square of my failed painting. I had propped it up behind his dish/beaker as a backdrop. It was a fun reference to those fake background images of the beach or a sunset you see sometimes in fish tanks. I thought it would be amusing for him, like a subliminal mirror. Maybe he'd try to fight it at night, or be the only one who really appreciated it. Maybe however, that painting was so bad that just a little corner of it was enough too kill a fish.