Adventures in Fishsitting

While my friend is away this weekend, I've agreed to feed her beta fish in her absence. I actually volunteered for the job since it meant I'd be able to hang out in her slightly messy but soon to be super swanky room. She, by the way, has the most awesome, most comfortable, full-sized bed. I had spend a good part of the prior evening hanging out in her room, mostly lounging in her bed when I realized, as she cooed and chatted with her fish, Monet, no one would be around to feed him.

My impression of Monet has changed since our first meeting. I've come to realize he's quite a friendly, conscious and smart little fellow. He shows a curiosity and interest when people pass by his bowl. He responds to voices, especially the high-pitched baby talk of my friend when she addresses him. I tried to imitate this intonation when I fed him today but it just didn't work. I don't know why, but I find it difficult to talk to pets (and babies I guess) in cooing, baby-talk fashion. I inevitably end up talking to them as if they were people my own age. I greet them as I would normal people; “It's been real,” were I believe my parting words to Monet. He seemed, in a fishy way, confused by this.

Fish, I learned, are incredibly easy to talk to. They don't judge you or as questions; they just swim. In Monet's case, being the curious little dude that he is, he comes to the side of his bowl and watches me when I get particularly excited or passionate about something.

I knew that my friend, (his “Mom” as I started to refer to her while talking to him), often reads to him, so I thought it might be nice to keep up this routine. Unfortunately, all that I found strewn about were academic books; hardly bed-time material. Instead, I read him a hilarious, slightly less intellectually challenging, article on-line about pancake batter in a can. He seemed interested by the end, or maybe he was just intrigued because I was laughing so enthusiastically over the article. Who can say? He swam away as I closed out of the Internet but came racing back when I said, “Goodnight.” I think he understands that word. He also seems to respond to his own name. It seems like something that could be tested. Yes; before I get to attached to this guy I should start treating him like a scientific experiment. That'll be sure to stop any emotions from getting involved. After all, he's not my fish.