Judging from my past experiences with pets, I probably shouldn’t be allowed within 10 feet of an animal, much less permitted to own one. You name pretty much any domesticated animal, and I’ve probably owned (and killed) it.

There was Sandy, my hermit crab, who crawled up under my bed and never reappeared. And my rabbits, which my sister’s dog ended up enjoying substantially more than I ever did. And who could forget my adorable kitten, Snowball. Well…that story gets a bit messy. Let’s just say it’s never a good idea to leave the drier open for an extended period of time without peeking in to make sure it’s unoccupied before starting the load.

So when my roommate brought her goldfish, Mr. Phelps, with her when she moved in, I don’t know what I was thinking when I entertained the idea of acquiring my own aquatic amigo. During the first week, it was great fun watching Mr. Phelps flit around in his bowl and live a completely insignificant existence. So much fun, in fact, that my roommate and I decided that Mr. Phelps needed a companion.

We made the late-night trip to Wal-Mart and acquired another fish, which I named Nemo..how original, I know.

There was harmony in the fish tank and Nemo and Mr. Phelps were living a blissful life together. Everything was right in our little microcosm of a dorm room.That is, until I decided the water was looking a little murky and took it upon myself to change the water.

My roommate was gone back home to Dallas for the weekend and I was left in charge of all fish responsibilities, which was probably our first mistake.
Like I said, the water had become a bit cloudy and thus I was moved to clean the bowl. I had another, smaller fish bowl on hand to facilitate Nemo and Mr.Phelps during their temporary displacement, so I filled that bowl up with water from the sink and transferred the pair to the other bowl.
The first sign that things weren’t going as well they should have been was when the fish started to float, instead of swim. I didn’t think much about it at the time, I just figured they were so happy to be in clean water they didn’t know what to do with themselves, so they just…floated? Maybe their sudden decrease in movement and activity should have been a red flag, but hindsight is 20/20.
Being the easily-distracted person that I am, my attention was averted to another task at hand and I abandoned my fish in the clean tank to make a quick trip to Wal-Mart. When I returned, I walked in on a grim scene.
Not just one, but both fish were floating belly up in their temporary tank of tragedy. As a last ditch effort, I tried transferring them back into the murky water which they were obviously fine in before. Looking back, I don’t know why this would have helped at all, but at such a moment of distress it seemed like a good idea.
To no avail, Nemo and Mr. Phelps simply floated on the surface of the dirty water.
As it turns out, you’re supposed to let the water sit and adjust to room temperature before putting the fish in there. This is all news to me.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if I had just killed Nemo, because he was mine and had no real emotional significance to me. But Mr. Phelps was my roommate’s pet, and she had bought it with her best friend as a parting gesture before they both left for college. They both had a fish and it served as a common link between them.
And I dissolved that link. I severed that connection. I killed her aquatic ties with her best friend.
The worst part was that I still had to tell her..
I sent her a text message detailing the event, and she was, of course, distressed by the tragic loss of Mr. Phelps.
It’s said that fish have a memory of two thirds of a second. Too bad my roommate’s memory is much longer. Needless to say, we just won’t be getting anymore fish anytime soon..at least, none that she will let me within 10 feet of.