Fish Tales

We bought Hallie a pet fish last week. He's a blue betta, also known as the Siamese fighting fish. She's been begging to get a pet for months now, so Wifezilla and I finally caved and went with something that's hardy and easy to care for. I know Hallie would much rather have a puppy, but her mother is allergic to anything with hair. I think it's the dander that sets her immune system off. Most of the time, she develops really bad congestion, resembling that of a head cold. She can also break out into hives too. I asked Hallie is she would like to trade her Mommy in for a cute, cuddly puppy and she immediately agreed. Without hesitation, Wifezilla agreed too. I'm going to have to keep my eyes open for Wifezilla bolting from the house leaving a dog in her dust.

Hallie wanted to name the fish Karen or Brittany, but I refused. Never mind that he's a guy fish, I can't abide pets with people names. Wifezilla stepped in and came up with Indigo, which I don't mind because now I call him Indy after my favorite archaeologist. He's a pretty funny fish actually. We bought a ruined temple that rests in the middle of his one gallon tank and he hides inside it to sleep. I went to check in on him this morning and couldn't find him. The top is covered, so I was perplexed until I reached in and lifted the ruin. He floated out from the bottom, groggy and none too pleased.

I was surprised to learn that betta males only fight to the death in fish tanks because there isn't any place for the loser to escape. Normally, the two alphas duke it out until one chickens out and runs. The victor lets him escape. But in the confined space of a fish tank, it's a cage match to the death. Indy looks to be quite the scrapper. I'm thinking about taking a page out of Michael Vick's book and setting up an underground fish fighting league. I could make some serious scratch and Hallie could learn a valuable lesson about survival of the fittest.