Zach brought home a fish today. He was used in a photo shoot at work a couple days ago, but apparently he hadn't been doing too well. We were very excited after work and went to the pet store and bought him $60 (that's more than a fish could ever earn in it's lifetime, I'm positive) worth of supplies and medicine. A new home, some live plants, some rocks, all that. We got everything all set up and were prepared to let his new little tank "normalize" for the next 24 hrs before he could move in... (you see me writing in past tense here?)
...and he died.
Poor dude. This is upsetting. Having sick pets is always upsetting. Even when you've only had the pet for an hour. Apparently I will go to decent lengths to save pets. I even walked an extra 15 minutes carrying heavy stuff in 90 degree heat to go get him a frozen pea from the grocery store. (You see, we suspected he was bloated because he had been fed too much. This makes fish constipated, and they sometimes float sideways. On the internet they prescribe mashed up frozen peas for fish, to get them regulated and pooping again). But I guess we were too late.
See, sometimes fish, they play dead, and then they start swimming again. I'm pretty sure he's dead, but I can't bring myself to flush him until I know for sure, so I'll check on him again after breakfast tomorrow. I am hopeful.
Dang, Sushy. I thought you were gonna be our new little buddy.
Now what do we do?