In my science class, we did this "project." It ended up not really being anything, but we all got fish in a 2-liter bottle. We really didn't do anything with them but feed them, and eventually our teacher told us we could release them or take them home. I had originally named mine flipper. Lame, I know.
When I took him home, someone suggested flippy sounded better. I thought it was stupid. But he ended up being called that for awhile. But I knew he needed a better name, so eventually I pulled out the trusty old dictionary my sisters and I had always used to for names, and decided on Carlton. It suited him. (This dictionary had a names section in the front, which Rachel had used to name her betta Flobert. That name was seriously in our dictionary, so she used it out of sheer hilarity.)
Carlton was a miracle fish. One of the very first times I changed his water, I had put him in an old margarine tub before putting him back in his bowl. I had left the house for awhile with him still in the tub on the counter, but when my family and I came back, he wasn't there. I was flabbergasted and started searching for him. Pretty soon I found him several feet away on the floor. I don't even know how he got that far. He wasn't moving. I rushed to put him back in his water, and thankfully he was still alive. He didn't move for awhile but quickly recovered in a few hours. He never attempted suicide again.
This is kind of weird, but let's be honest. When I was in 6th grade, and I had him in the margarine tub, I pet him a few times. His scales felt cool, he was absolutely adorable, and I'd never had a dog or anything--only a cute mouse that kept us awake at night and crawled up my jeans once. He was just really adorable.
It sounds like I was really attached to him, but I wasn't. After a year or two, I suddenly realized one day that I hadn't fed him in months, maybe almost a year. I was amazed he was even still alive. Miracle fish? Naw, I found out my dad had been feeding him all this time. Phew. I didn't even have to be responsible for him. So I just kind of forgot he existed for a few years. I was a bad owner, I know.
But as I grew older, and marveled that he was still alive (Four years? Five? Six? Holy cow.), I started growing an attachment to him. Especially when I went to Truman. I wanted to bring him with me and finally I was responsible for him again. I put him on my desk and saw him every day. My roommate and good friend, Resa, made him a cute little name tag. I loved having Carlton with me--a little piece of home. A very cute one. He was seven years old at this point. And this is when he started having problems with his swim bladder.
But let me backtrack. I don't remember when it was exactly, but at some point he became blind. I'm pretty sure it was 3 years after I got him. I don't know how it happened. His eyes just started bulging, and my dad pointed out that he wasn't going straight to his food anymore. He would open his mouth repeatedly and scan the water until he found the food. He knew it was there when he felt it drop, so he would frantically search, like a game of marco polo. He always got it.
So my first semester at Truman his swim bladder went awry. This is the sac of air that keeps him from sinking or floating. I had seen this happen to my step-sister's fish before. That one only lasted a few months. Every day I watched Carlton frantically paddle down, down, down, trying to fight it. He couldn't do it. He was stuck floating at the surface. He kept trying and trying and trying. It was troubling. So I looked up information about this problem, and it said to feed him peas.
My friends laughed at me when I left the dining hall with a few peas, and it was probably mostly that I put them in an ice cream cone, but I didn't know what else to take them out in. I told them they were for my fish because he was sick. They thought I was crazy, or making it up. I told them if I fed him peas he would get better. They still thought I was ridiculous.
So I fed him the peas, and sometimes he would get better for awhile, but he'd go back to floating again. The most eery thing was when he started having the opposite problem. He sank. He looked so sad and pathetic just sitting at the bottom, barely moving. Resa and I were concerned. We both decided to make him get well cards, and so did my boyfriend at the time. They were really cute. I put them up by his bowl. He was really back and forth between being fine and having swim bladder problems. When the semester ended, I decided to take him home because I had enough things to worry about with school, and it was putting extra stress on me.
By this time, I was convinced he was the coolest fish ever. Once I said, "there are two things that never change in life--God, and my immortal goldfish." I was really proud of him. I thought about breeding more goldfish with him to keep the genes. He was definitely a good one, but I was lazy and never did anything about it. I was definitely attached to him though, and missed him sometimes. I was almost convinced he would never die.
Fast forward to May 31, 2011. I had been driving all day, moving back from Texas. It was late at night, I was physically exhausted, and in emotional shock. I came home only to discover that I not only had a car-full of stuff to move in, but I had left a huge mess a year ago in my last-minute packing scramble. Huge mess. Go me. On top of all that, it turns out my step-brother felt no need to have the AC on. As I went to grab a glass of water I noticed Carlton was floating upside-down. I panicked, thinking he was dead, but when I got closer, I saw he was moving. I had never seen him in such a bad state. So I sat at the bottom of the stairs drinking a glass of water, sweating, and petting my dog--my only comfort. I sat for a long time with the dog, not knowing what else to do, overwhelmed, and wondering if Carlton would make it through the night. I thought this would be his last day.
It turned out he'd been like this for awhile. My stepbrother told me. He told me he was having internal bleeding. Sure enough, his belly was swollen and had huge red streaks. It was horrible. He told me he had been trying to kill him, but couldn't. Nothing worked. Go Carlton. Way to stick it out. Such a fighter. He looked ridiculous though. He still got his food, even blind and floating upside-down. I said if there were such a thing as a fish circus he would be in one.
I moved in with my grandmother, so I didn't see him much, but every time I did go over there, I always wanted to check up on him. He never really recovered. The belly problems went away, but floating upside-down just became sinking upside-down.
It was kind of funny, but mostly sad. The reality of his imminent death had finally sunk in. I knew his time was short. Last weekend I decided when I went home I was going to bring him up with me. I missed him, and wanted to be with him until he was gone. Today I was all ready to go back to Kirksville, I just had one last stop--my old house. I had just pulled up and was about to go inside and grab him when I noticed a text from my dad that said, "The goldfish died today." Could the timing have been worse or more ironic? No.
I couldn't just leave him for my step-brother to flush. I wanted to let him go with dignity. I didn't have time to bury him because I had to go straight to Kirksville so I put him and some water in a jar and hit the road. As I was rushing to get ready for a dinner, I told my friends that I needed to clear out my car, but since I wasn't ready they wanted to do it. I went from saying, "Uh, I have weird things in my car," to admitting desperately, "Okay, I have a dead fish in my car! Don't judge me!"
Since there isn't really anywhere to bury him in Kirksville, I think I will let him go in Thousand Hills Lake tomorrow. Then I'm going to buy a new fish. It won't replace him. He's special, irreplaceable, unforgettable. It's hard to let go.
Goodbye, Carlton. After ten years I grew to love you, you stupid fish.
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