A Fishing Expedition

As you already know we have two dogs that are insanely loved by our girls and barely tolerated by my husband and me. After scoring all the necessary items on Buy Nothing Davis for a goldfish, I decided to surprise the girls with a trip to Petco after preschool. I was beyond thrilled that of all the sparkly, glow-in-the-dark fish at the pet store, they chose the 19-cent feeder fish. It took one store employee and the manager to consult with me on our 41-cent purchase.

Here is our unedited conversation:

“What type of living environment do you have for them at home?”

“Like their tank? I have a small fish bowl for them.”

Petco employees exchange a judgey look.

“We recommend for goldfish you get a larger tank because they expel a lot of waste and so you will be changing the water constantly and it’s not an optimal environment for them.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen. I’m sure we can change the water daily.”

“Well, I mean we can’t stop you from getting them, but you will officially be going against doctor’s orders.”

Pause for sarcastic laughter since we are talking about fish that have the word "feeder" in their name. There is none. 

“I think I can live with that. Can you put them in two separate bags please?”

“They would probably be more comfortable in the same bag.”

“Yes, but it would make for a much more comfortable car ride home if each of my daughters is holding one bag.”

“Are you going straight home with them?”

“We are stopping at Jamba Juice first.”

“I recommend going straight home and keeping them out of direct sunlight.”

At this point I decided to pay for the fish just to end the most ridiculous conversation I’d had that day and that included the one with my two-year-old about why we must wear pants in Target.

Finally my girls are holding their individual fish bags, grinning like they’ve just found Nemo.

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We proceed to walk around the store and admire all the smelly rodents we won’t be purchasing this side of 5th grade, introducing our fish, which we have affectionately named Grandpa and Peggy (after my Dad and his girlfriend), to each of the store’s 9 hamsters and 5 Guinea pigs. We did our best to avoid turning into Darla, with only one dropping incident. 

The manager who fished out our fish stopped us at the door to ensure that we paid the 41-cents and weren’t the mother-and-daughter-fish-stealing-masterminds you watched on CSPAN. Just to seal his fate as the star of my next blog he told me that if I brought the dead fish carcasses back to the store, we would get a replacement free of charge for the next 30 days with our receipt.

All of this may sounds a bit fishy, but I assure you it's all true. We are back home now and my children are currently taking turns holding the bowl with Grandpa and Peggy on their laps, while the other one snacks on Goldfish crackers.


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