I’m babysitting a fish. He’s a beautiful red betta. I’m not sure what his name is or even if he is a he, but for the sake of this blog post I’ll call him Perky.
Perky leads a fairly ordinary life as far as fish goes. He wakes up, stretches his fins, filters his gills, and heads off to work. His job is swimming around his 1 ½ gallon tank, inspecting walls and checking to make sure there is enough oxygen in the water. That is to say, he just sits there and looks pretty. By fish standards, an exhaustive schedule.
But the highlight of Perky’s day comes right around 9:15 every evening. I don’t know if fish can cognate, but if this one could he would probably think something like: Wow, what a day. I got a lot of swimming in. Hey look. Someone is coming to give me attention. He’ll probably tap on my tank or something. Wait a second… is that the food jar…? IT IS!!!! OHBOYOHBOYOHBOYOHBOY OHBOYOHBOYOHBOYOHBOY OHBOYOHBOY…yum.
The fish seriously freaks out. He perks up (hence the name) immediately upon recognizing the food jar in my hand. He energetically swims around waiting for that moment when small flakes of plant byproduct land on the surface of the water for him to consume. What joy this fish must fill! What happiness! What fulfillment!
…and then he goes back to aimlessly swimming.
I’m glad I’m not a fish.