From Tank to Home

Hello there! My name is Fibbles; Fibbles the Goldfish - a fancy goldfish - who survived my first life to arrive where I am today. And where is that?, you may ask. We’ll get to that. But do let’s start from the beginning.

First, let’s make clear that I am no ordinary goldfish. I’m a Bubble-Eye goldfish which means that I look different from most. My face contains two fluid filled sacks under my eyes that look like cheeks. My swimming is a bit clumsy due to the initial interbreeding the Chinese had to carry out in order to create my species. Which…makes me a bit weaker than most regular goldfish. From what I’ve heard, you’ll either love me or hate me looks-wise.

Since I hear stories from the human perspective all the time, I felt that you might like to hear what it’s like for me and my fellow fresh water friends.

For one thing, I know that many of you don’t even realize that we fish can see, feel and hear. It may be presumptuous for me to say so, but I rather believe that quite a large number of humans dont even regard us as “real” pets. I know my first owner didn’t. He let my water get murky to the point where I couldn’t see out.

Not that there was much to see on the few occasions when my water was clear. My tiny 5 gallon tank was kept amidst old, dusty books on a rickety shelf. On the few occasions Victor McDonald pulled one of these books out, the shelf would rock and my stomach got queasy as I feared falling to the floor, my tank potentially smashing into a million pieces. Luckily that never happened and when my water was clean, I did take in what I could of the small, dank room the books and I sat in. Very little to see aside from cobwebs which would actually fascinate me. I’d spent many a day studying those, wondering if their creators would return or if they were abandoned forever…a fear I also held regarding my own fate.

The kindest thing Victor ever did for me was deciding to rehome me. I’d overheard through the echo of my water when he told his wife that he really couldn’t take care of me and that it wasn’t fair.

“Flush him down the toilet.” Evelyn laughed and I gulped in terror. I felt a surge of strength return to my brain and body - from my fins to my tail - as my fight-or-flight kicked in.

Footsteps neared my tank as I shrank back in terror. Louder, louder as they came closer to my small, dingy room. I hid inside the one ornament in my tank - a hollow piece designed to look like a brick with a large American flag painted on either side. Never in my entire life had I felt so terrified. I waited for a net, a cup or even a cruel, bare hand to grab me out of my tank.

To my utter shock and astonishment, Victor lifted my entire tank with my water, my Flag, and myself still in it and carried me off to the car. He strapped my tank in with a seatbelt and said, “Well, Buddy, you’re on your way. I hope life treats you well, I really do.” My already downturned mouth trembled and tears stung my eyes. Was I being saved? Did Victor care about me, after all?

Soon enough, we approach The Fish Corner and Victor was speaking with the owner whose name was apparently Bill.

“We’ll take good care of him here,” Bill was telling Victor. “We’ll even keep his flag with him so he’ll feel more comfortable. And then the net I’d anxiously anticipated earlier took me from my tiny tank and placed me back down into a huge one. My flag followed suit. It was awe-inspiring. Intense. Shocking, thats the word.

All these tanks around me were filled with different species of fish. I was sandwiched between a tank full of multi-colored bettas to my left and a whole lot of orange comets to my right. Yet here I was in this giant tank all alone with only my flag for company. One part of me was relieved since I felt fairly weak from lack of care. If another goldfish decided to bully me, I wouldn’t have much emotional or physical energy to fight back. And besides, I have always been a very gentle, peace-loving type.

Sitting in there, watching all these strange other fish while waiting for a potential home was nerve-wracking. What was going to happen to me? Would anybody want me? What would Bill do to me if no one wanted me?

Plenty of kids came in and stared into my tank. Their eyes looked big and scary as they made faces at me. Some mocked me. One even called me ugly. The nerve! But everything changed when she walked in. She was like a ray of sunshine. An Angel on earth. She looked at me and said hello. I smiled and she smiled back. I knew I had found my true mother; my new home.

Straining to hear from my area of the store to where the cash register was, about thirty feet away, I couldn’t make out what Bill was saying to the young lady. But soon a big sign with bold black marker was placed on my tank and I could make out make out the backwards letters D-L-O-S bleeding through from the other side. I could understand English, but I could not read. The girl came back over and introduced herself as Mollie. I couldn’t tell her my name because I’d never been given one.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Fibbles,” said the beautiful, sweet Mollie, her two blonde ponytails reminding me of my own facial protrusions. I had a name! And very soon, a new home!

That night, I hardly slept; I was way too nervous and excited. Would Mollie return (I knew that she would)? What time would she get here to bring me home? What would my new home be like? So many questions. Finally, I fell asleep from the sheer exhaustion of my own thoughts.

* * * * * * * *

That was months ago. I now live in a beautifully furnished 20 gallon tank, amidst a new castle to swim through, beautiful, aqua-toned gravel and, let’s not forget, my American flag. The filter runs clear and showers a glorious, everlasting waterfall into my aquarium.

It’s morning; I can tell by the way the sun shines into my tank. Its warmth feels good on my back and I imagine my yellow-gold scales look quite attractive with the sunlight glinting off them, if I do say so myself. I don’t have a clock in here and can’t tell time the way you humans do. However, I can tell time by the angle of the sun. It’s currently about 8:30AM. My mother likes to sleep in, so I know I’ll get my morning flakes in about an hour.

We have a routine. I see something new about the world every day from my 20 gallon home within my larger brick and mortar one, within a vast, green world that greets me through the kitchen window.

Life gave me a second chance; love gave me a chance. I know now what it means to have a loving family because Mollie loves and takes care of me so well. I also know what it means to truly love someone myself. I have no doubts or fears any longer. All I know is that every day with Mollie is sweeter than the day before.