The Ghost with the Most

When my sister Christie was preparing for her freshman year of college in the fall of 1992, she innocently purchased a pair of goldfish (one gold, one silver) to grace her dorm room. But as she watched these fish perpetually dirty up their bowl over the next few days, she decided they were more trouble than they were worth and left them for my parents to take care of. Amazingly, Joe (that was their collective name) exceeded the lifespan of the average pet goldfish many times over. These two fish co-habitated for approximately 12 years until Silver Joe died in 2004. Gold Joe lived out the next few years in solitude before finally dying in 2006.

Not long after moving into our house a little over 2 years ago, we decided to get some fish of our own. Our fish troubles have been well documented on this blog. One-Eyed Willy, Admiral Ackbar, Egon Spengler, Buford "Mad Dog" Tannon, Ulysses Everett McGill, and Garth Algar have all tried and failed to survive in our cursed fish tank, with some lasting longer than others.

Around the time that Eddie was born, we got yet another fish (lucky #7). One of the favorite leftovers from last year's fish name poll was Tad Ghostal (the alter ego of superhero turned talk show host Space Ghost). We went searching for the right Tad at the pet store, and settled on a fish that was partially transparent, or ghostly, if you will.

The fish who wasn't there.

It must come down to lighting, because Tad has never looked as cool in our tank as he did at the pet store. And he has never been particularly active either. In short, Tad is boring. This boredom has bred neglect as he has gradually lost several amenities. After not cleaning out his tank for a particularly long time, the water filter and decorative coral were damaged by the surplus algae and had to be thrown away. When we ran out of drops to treat the tap water, we didn't buy a new bottle. Lately we haven't even bothered to turn his light on every day. And he's lucky if I remember to feed him once or twice a week. Yet still he swims on.

After cleaning his tank a few months ago, I plopped Tad back into the water and he momentarily went belly up. When I tapped on the glass he quickly righted himself. Not bothering to hide my excitement I informed Kristen, "I think Tad's gonna die." But ever since then he has been perfectly fine.

Maybe he can't die because he is already a ghost. We might find out for sure when Eddie is tall enough to reach the edge of the fish tank on the book shelf. Either that, or, in a coming day, my parents will hear a knock at their door. And waiting for them on the doorstep will be a small, rectangular tank, wrapped with a big bow, containing one rather boring fish.