Brought into our lives two weeks ago, the latest member of the Leiva family is a little bundle of joy. Although the hook jaw doesn't exactly exude happiness.
Rather than a sibling, our 6-year-old daughter now shares her room with Betta splendins. Which I think is Latin for he who must swim in circles all day. In other words, her roommate is a fish.
A fish that has thankfully lived up to his name: Swimmers.
As first pets go, a fish seemed like a low risk investment. Of course I thought the same thing about a few low risk mutual funds that ended up in the toilet. Hopefully Swimmers won't follow suit anytime soon.
Admittedly my firsthand knowledge of fish extends only to the end of a treble hook. Having a fish as a pet and not on a plate came about because of leg casts.
After wearing walking casts for six weeks as part of physical therapy, the time came for our daughter to pick out a pet. However, both sides engaged in a bit of collective bargaining before stepping foot in a store. Of course our sweet daughter threw a cat on the negotiation table. We countered with the more modest fish proposal.
Thankfully six year olds aren't represented by Teamsters, so a take it or leave it deal was hammered out. Although Jimmy Hoffa Jr. should consider trying the little girl pout.
Next came the hard part, finding the embodiment of Nemo without the salt water aquarium price. Naturally I steered my child to the "easy care" fish section. We did skip the fish for a quarter since that seemed like a poor return on investment; as in years of therapy bills for a fish that died on the ride home.
Given the significant decision before me, I did the unthinkable -- I asked for help. After peppering the sales clerk with more obtuse questions than at a congressional hearing, she brought us to aisle three.
"I think this is what you're looking for," she said, her voice wavering between utter exhaustion and utter contempt.
She pointed to a display of open plastic bowls filled with dyed blue water. It looked like something you would attempt to pitch ping-pong balls into at a carnival game; minus the tattooed guy calling your manhood into question if you balked at playing. Come to think of it, I never did win that Ramones mirror.
Despite an attempt to cross arms and ponder, I took the sales pitch Betta, tank and 0.1 ounce of fish flakes. Swimmers survived the ride home in a minivan cup holder -- no doubt a similar test was conducted by a roomful of engineers at Chrysler. Despite a few late meals, he's still belly side down.
What Swimmers lacks in joyous entertainment value, he makes up for in the shouldering responsibilities department. Not a bad return on investment at $3.25 plus tax. Let's hope he keeps circling the right bowl.
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