I've recently been yearning to adopt a new pet or pets. A little creature or two to tell my hopes, dreams and fears without fear of judgement or back talk. I decided to take this desire and make it a reality.
Let me preface this story by sharing that I do have a beautiful MiniPin named Hendrix that I call my own, but like any good mother does, I left the adorable bundle of joy to be raised by my parents when I made the move to the Rockies a little over two years ago. I had signed a lease to a spacious studio that did not allow dogs. I told myself I would get a bigger more open place as soon as I could and take him back. Two years and a couple months later, I have done no such thing.
My grand idea to replace the void of Hendrix was to get a couple fish. I decided it would have to be two, because I wanted to name them Bob Marley and Bob Dylan. I would obviously call them "the Bobs" in my homage to OfficeSpace. After three days of talking about my idea of my pet Bobs, I ventured out to my local PetSmart to purchase a bowl, rocks and two of the most badass fish I could find.
Fifteen minutes agonizing over the many tanks of fish, I found two that were a nice brown and orange tye-die looking in appearance. Obviously, these were my guys! There could be no better look for two fish named after hippie era revolutionary musical artists. Just as I was ready to call it a day and go home I was abruptly informed that they were tropical fish and they would need and entire tank set up, and not the gallon bowl and rocks I had in hand. To make the whole situaion more agonizing, he told me my only real option would be to get a beta fish. For those who don't know, a beta fish must live alone. Two together would battle to the death. Leaving only one or none of them in the end
In an attempt NOT to make myself the Michael Vick of fish ownership, I abruptly put all my supplies back, and went home.
Maybe I don't really want any pets after all.
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