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Fishy tale

Because I am a loyal friend, and it’s the season to give charity to those less fortunate, I am currently the foster mom to a fish.

Its usual human guardian, away for the holidays, likes to pamper the fish (“Mirliton,” not its real name). Mirliton is tropical and blue, and as far as I can tell, it has no personality whatever. No chatter. No ego.

Mirliton does seem to be a pacifist. While it’s sitting next to me, in its warm, watery abode, it radiates serenity and sanity. It never votes and never takes a position that might reveal its gender.

It’s also not alone. It arrived with a stowaway snail, “Ned,” who lounges around and feasts on algae, but keeps a social distance from Mirliton. I’ve never seen them hug.

As their foster mom, I’m naturally the last one to know. Are they just friends? Is Ned a tenant? A janitor? A groupie?

And what am I, in this crowded vale of tears? Am I a hostess or an enabler? Am I the windshield or the wiper?

Dive in.


Snail drama

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One Comment

  1. John settle John settle

    Life in a fish bowl
    May mot be so bad if covid free

Comments are closed.