Dave the Fish

A year and a half ago when Taryn got her fish tank for her birthday, she named some fish. Now, forty fish later we just don't bother. I honestly think she looks forward to them dying because she likes to go to the pet store and get new ones. Anyway, we feed them, and care for the tank. Have the water tested regularly, and it is always perfect. But still, fish after unnamed fish dies.

Last night, Taryn felt sick. She had been in and out of the bathroom thinking she might have to throw up, and finally lay down in bed. "Stay". She told me. I thought she meant until she fell asleep, so as soon as her eyes were closed for a few minutes I would stand up to leave, and the moment I would she would open her eyes and say, "sit". It was kind of creepy. A few times I tried to escape, and each time she knew.

After about an hour of sitting on the edge of her bed staring at the lone unnamed fish in her huge fish tank, I named him Dave. I stood up to feed Dave, since I had nothing else to do, and of course Taryn opened her eyes and glared at me. I told her, "I am just feeding your fish. I named him Dave." She didn't feel good, so she didn't care about anything, including what I named the fish. She told me to name it whatever I wanted to. I sat back down for a while waiting for her to sleep, and enjoyed watching Dave explore the plants and sunken ship, and just...keep...swimming. He was kind of cute-ish. By the time I left the room another 20 minutes later, I kind of liked Dave. I hate pet fish. I think they are pointless to have and are basically the same as flushing money down the toilet. But the little zebra fish, Dave, and I had a moment...or an hour and twenty minutes worth of moments. It was as special as human/pet fish in a tank interactions can be.

This morning, Taryn woke up feeling better, and informed me that Dave was not acceptable for the fish to be called. "I know I said you could name it whatever you wanted, Mom", she said, "but it can't be Dave". ("Can't be Dave?", I thought. "I don't think I can handle this. Dave IS Dave"). "It has to be Dave THE FISH, she said." Phew. Dave the fish was what I called Dave already, so I was fine with make "The Fish" officially part of his name. Disaster in my mind avoided.

So, unnamed fish is now "Dave the Fish". I should be pleased, but I just can't help but think that Dave the fish is doomed to die any moment. I mean, when we didn't notice him, or talk to him, or care about him...he was probably going to live forever. But now we NAMED him, and had a CONVERSATION about him. That is pretty much the kiss of death for little old Dave the Fish. I feel bad. And, quite frankly, I am already pretty depressed about the future passing of the unnamed fish named Dave the Fish who hasn't died yet.

What have we done?