If you were a Happy Days fan as I was, I think we can all remember when Fonzie jumped the shark. If you don’t remember, here’s a quick rundown. They all went to California. There was a shark in a cage in the ocean. There were also ski ramps. To settle some dispute and to prove that he was in fact the coolest, Fonzie skied up the ramp and over the shark. Critics have long since argued that that one episode was the beginning of the end for that beloved series. In fact, it even brought about this.
Why do I tell you this story and reminisce so longingly of a classic tv show from my youth? Here’s why. In the zoo/museum (zoozeum?!?!) where we live, Shlomo and I have a 120-gallon aquarium filled with African cichlids.
For those unfamiliar with cichlids, let me just say that they can be an aggressive group of aquatic beasts. They are not as evil as piranhas, but they are nowhere nearly as peaceful as a tank full of guppies.
In case you are unaware, Shlomo and I are also fairly lazy. As a result, we have our tank serviced once a month. It really does make sense. They do a fantastic job. They know what they are doing. And they clean things we would never think to clean.
Last Thursday when they were cleaning the tank, Fish Guy (as I will affectionately refer to him) told us of some beautiful new cichlids they had at the store. These were called an albino strawberry cichlid. Shlomo made a beeline to the store. We got a pair. (As an aside, we always get a pair. They only sell pairs. We have never had a baby fish. I blame Shlomo. I am not sure why, but I do.) As is the case with practically all cichlids (and finches we have discovered), the male is the prettiest of the pair. Shlomo also got a couple of other pairs of cichlids, that while beautiful are not anywhere nearly as pretty.
I got home and the fish looked something like this (keep in mind the photo does not do it justice):
Or in the case of my artistic rendering, this:
However, somehow the fish in our tank always seem to know when there is a new and much more beautiful fish. The attack began. We have been through this several times. They attack for a day or so. They nip at its fins. They show it who is boss. Then, they leave it alone. The fins regenerate. Everything is lovely.
After 47 hours, the fish looked like this:
After 48 hours, like this:
That’s right blood was starting to trickle out from its tail. Shlomo and I high-tailed it to the fish store (that’s right, an ordinary pet store would not do—we have a specialty fish store) to find out what to do. We were ready to set up the “sick tank.”
Setting up the sick tank would have proven ironic. Referencing the aforementioned “lazy” comment, the sick tank had been sitting in the spare bedroom/study for about 9 months without water in it until the day before. We had people coming for dinner and I issued a slight ultimatum: it is hidden or I don’t cook. I know, I could have hidden it, but isn’t that why I have Shlomo? I need someone to kvetch at.
Amazingly, Fish Guy Number Two (as he is now affectionately known) had a simpler suggestion. He said to go to the dollar store and buy a mini-laundry basket. It would float. We could quarantine the sick/hurt/pitiful looking fish in there and he cold stay in the same tank. It would also have the added benefit of letting the other fish acclimate to him.
We went to the dollar store. Sure enough, they had those little laundry baskets. We also bought a plastic colander made from the same stuff. Guess what? They actually do float. We caught the little guy, put him in his little cage, and just waited for Fonzie to jump over him.
All was well, we went to sleep. This is where the story takes an almost unbelievable turn. In the morning when we woke, he had escaped. But, evidently they had turned on the female (who is smaller and noticeably different), and she had managed to place herself in the cage. I understand how she got in. She was probably small enough to fit through the holes. What I don’t understand, is how he got out. I have now named him Houdini.
Anyway, we caught him again. We transferred them both to the colander which has much smaller holes. Now, we are just waiting for them to recover…and for Fonzie to jump them, of course.
Why do I tell you this story and reminisce so longingly of a classic tv show from my youth? Here’s why. In the zoo/museum (zoozeum?!?!) where we live, Shlomo and I have a 120-gallon aquarium filled with African cichlids.
For those unfamiliar with cichlids, let me just say that they can be an aggressive group of aquatic beasts. They are not as evil as piranhas, but they are nowhere nearly as peaceful as a tank full of guppies.
In case you are unaware, Shlomo and I are also fairly lazy. As a result, we have our tank serviced once a month. It really does make sense. They do a fantastic job. They know what they are doing. And they clean things we would never think to clean.
Last Thursday when they were cleaning the tank, Fish Guy (as I will affectionately refer to him) told us of some beautiful new cichlids they had at the store. These were called an albino strawberry cichlid. Shlomo made a beeline to the store. We got a pair. (As an aside, we always get a pair. They only sell pairs. We have never had a baby fish. I blame Shlomo. I am not sure why, but I do.) As is the case with practically all cichlids (and finches we have discovered), the male is the prettiest of the pair. Shlomo also got a couple of other pairs of cichlids, that while beautiful are not anywhere nearly as pretty.
I got home and the fish looked something like this (keep in mind the photo does not do it justice):
Or in the case of my artistic rendering, this:
However, somehow the fish in our tank always seem to know when there is a new and much more beautiful fish. The attack began. We have been through this several times. They attack for a day or so. They nip at its fins. They show it who is boss. Then, they leave it alone. The fins regenerate. Everything is lovely.
After 47 hours, the fish looked like this:
After 48 hours, like this:
That’s right blood was starting to trickle out from its tail. Shlomo and I high-tailed it to the fish store (that’s right, an ordinary pet store would not do—we have a specialty fish store) to find out what to do. We were ready to set up the “sick tank.”
Setting up the sick tank would have proven ironic. Referencing the aforementioned “lazy” comment, the sick tank had been sitting in the spare bedroom/study for about 9 months without water in it until the day before. We had people coming for dinner and I issued a slight ultimatum: it is hidden or I don’t cook. I know, I could have hidden it, but isn’t that why I have Shlomo? I need someone to kvetch at.
Amazingly, Fish Guy Number Two (as he is now affectionately known) had a simpler suggestion. He said to go to the dollar store and buy a mini-laundry basket. It would float. We could quarantine the sick/hurt/pitiful looking fish in there and he cold stay in the same tank. It would also have the added benefit of letting the other fish acclimate to him.
We went to the dollar store. Sure enough, they had those little laundry baskets. We also bought a plastic colander made from the same stuff. Guess what? They actually do float. We caught the little guy, put him in his little cage, and just waited for Fonzie to jump over him.
All was well, we went to sleep. This is where the story takes an almost unbelievable turn. In the morning when we woke, he had escaped. But, evidently they had turned on the female (who is smaller and noticeably different), and she had managed to place herself in the cage. I understand how she got in. She was probably small enough to fit through the holes. What I don’t understand, is how he got out. I have now named him Houdini.
Anyway, we caught him again. We transferred them both to the colander which has much smaller holes. Now, we are just waiting for them to recover…and for Fonzie to jump them, of course.
1 comment:
That was an incredible story! And I always love your drawings. Very impressive. That floating tank within and tank idea is awesome!
Post a Comment