It started out as one of three, 12 cent goldfish. Feeder fish they’re called. I had dug a small pond in my backyard and needed to keep the mosquito population down. Adding some life to my yard was also my goal.
As the fish grew, two of the three turned out to be “fancy” goldfish. With the flowing fins. One of the fancy ones was always getting nipped at by the others. Eventually, they ended up floating, dead. The fancy goldfish seemed happy in the pond, by itself. Unmolested, it swam peacefully. It made me wonder if it had murdered the others. I have an active and warped imagination. Badass was named.
In six years, Badass has lived through roofers pouring toxic sludge into the pond. Numerous, stray cats, blistering summers and winters where the pond froze over. Gorging on mosquito larva and fish biscuits. It’s color has changed and it’s gotten rather large. My 12 cent goldfish is now a Ghetto Koi.
Well, yesterday I was home sick. My sweet, murder machine, Kismet Ninjapuss is behaving like she does when she catches something. This makes me look around for a possibly wounded, if not dead critter in my house. I find Badass on the floor!!
Noooo! I’m all emotional and beginning to tear up. Is it too late? I think, hoping it isn’t. I pick up the fish and it feels stiff. It’s been de-scaled, but not eviscerated. There is no sign of life. I’m angry. I had just been bragging about this bad ass fish and what a survivor it is. Too smart for that killer cat. Not today, apparently. I unceremoniously chuck the fish into the trash and snivel. About five minutes later. I think that Badass deserves a better burial and get it out of the trash. When I wash the fish off, it wriggles! No way!?
I quickly take it out to the pond and perform some kind of fish, CPR. I prime the gills and keep it moving. All the while, Kismet is excited. Am I going to bring her toy back to life? It doesn’t look like it. I let it loose and it just floats. Damn! It was just death spasms. I prepare for the burial. Putting the fish aside as I begin to dismantle the pond. I’m angry and weeping. For a 12 cent goldfish.
While I’m not looking, Kismet gets the fish from where I had it. I find it on the ground, covered in dirt. Crap! This is undignified. I think I’ll take it inside and put it in the freezer while I prepare its grand tomb. It touched the the cold and it begins to thrash. You got to be kidding me! I quickly get a bowl of water and place the fish in it. It’s beginning to look alive. Moving around and breathing. Its fins are shredded and it’s still shedding a few scales. I’m doubtful it’s going to live. I can just hope to give it some comfort and safety before it passes.
Well, this morning Badass is still with us. More lively than yesterday and even pooping. I’m rebuilding the pond. Making it damn near impossible for Kismet to get at it. She doesn’t even like fish! I have no problem with her eating her kills, but to maim and kill for entertainment is not acceptable.
She made me get rid of Monty, our ball python. (Found a great home for him) Now, when she thought she got rid of the fish. It was almost like a Highlander “There can be only one!”
Not today, Kismet. You got owned by a 12 cent goldfish, named Badass!