The Man in the Mirror...

Don't worry, I don't plan on turning this into a blog where I ramble incessantly about my pet, but bear with me for a while, as Zoubie is new to our lives, and very cute.

In case you didn't know, betta fish are very aggressive, territorial creatures. Originally, they are from Thailand, and are also known as "Siamese Fighting Fish," because they were selectively bred to kill each other for sport, kind of like a Southeast Asian version of cockfighting. Today, they are valued more for their bright colors, but all those generations of breeding for their fighting prowess mean that bettas don't play well with others. Zoubie will be an only child for his entire lifespan.

Not only do bettas not get along with one another, they can even become enraged if they spot their own reflection. Unfortunately for Zoubie, the walls of his tank are somewhat reflective, and he will puff up his fins and rush at his own image in order to defend his home from this perceived threat.

I'm aware that the glass fishbowl is upside down here. You can blame Zoubie's dad for that one.

All of this makes it all the more sad/ironic that Zoubie's only companions are a pair of tiny glass fish, locked together for eternity while Zoubie is condemned to a life of solitude. Sometimes, I catch him swimming near them, and I imagine him musing on this existential torment in the anger-inflected French accent that I have created for his inner monologue. Perhaps it is as Sartre said, no? "Hell is other people," even if those other people are a couple of tiny fake fish who forever mock your loneliness.

A Fish Called Zoubie...

Ladies and gentlemen, it is with great joy that I announce that Justin and I have expanded our family with the arrival of a new addition. This development has been in the works for over a year, since Justin and I first started talking about moving in together. You see, Justin has been longing for a pet for quite some time. Deep down, I know that he'd really rather rescue a dog, but with my allergies to pretty much anything covered in fur, I've always told him that we'd have to get a hypo-allergenic dog through a breeder, which would not only be prohibitively expensive, it would lack the feel-good intent behind adopting a shelter dog.

As a compromise, I told him we could get a fish, and I bought him a fish tank for his birthday last year. As in, last October. When I went to Italy, also last October, the souvenir I brought back for him was a small, Venetian glass fishbowl with two goldfish inside, representing the two of us. I thought it would make a nice aquarium decoration. We decided to defer the purchase of our actual fish until we moved and got settled in, but fate kept conspiring to delay us.

Finally, yesterday, after more than a year, we finally found ourselves at the pet store. We picked out an ugly/cute goldfish with bulging eyes that we were prepared to name Ackbar, but just when we were ready to buy, the salesman told us that Ackbar's entire tank was being medicated for parasites, and we couldn't take him home. We were crushed, but vowed to return when he had been restored to health.

Then, this morning, I started doing more research on caring for goldfish. Nearly every source I read said that it was tantamount to animal cruelty to keep a goldfish in a small, unfiltered tank like ours. Our fish would inevitably fail to thrive, and would likely die an untimely death. I knew I couldn't buy a goldfish after reading all that, so we elected to get a betta fish instead, since they can thrive in a small environment.

I sent Justin back to the pet store to pick up the betta that had caught our eye yesterday (I opted to stay home for this momentous occasion, because the pet store sells all manner of furry friends as well, and I was practically dying after our last visit), and he brought the little guy home and got him comfortably installed earlier today.
 

I present to you, Zoubie.

After relatively little deliberation, we settled on the name Zoubie. For whatever reason, our fish seemed to possess a French spirit to me, and we toyed with a few Gallic names for him. Jacques, after Jacques Cousteau, seemed too obvious, and I liked Claude, but it didn't quite seem right. Soon, Zoubie popped into my head, after a made-up word that Justin creatively misinterpreted from the song, "Zou Bisou Bisou," in last season's premiere episode of Mad Men.

Apparently, the song is about sweet little kisses, and Justin has come to use the word "zoubies" to refer to little pecks on the cheek, which he also calls "fishy kisses." To me, it seemed like a natural fit. (Don't worry, I'm aware that that story is unbelievably cheesy, but this is the only time you'll have to hear it.)

So please join me in welcoming our aquatic child into our lives. May his life be long, and full of as much joy as can be obtained by swimming endlessly within the same four walls.