While not exactly a tribute to Connie Francisâ€™ song, I thought Iâ€™d update yâ€™all on our fish.Â As you may recall our dog Booker decided to mass murder our pond fish last week.Â For reasons only our fish and their little guardian fish-angels (angel fish?) know, most of them survived Bookers teeth and an extended period of time on the ground in a sleet storm. To my knowledge only one goldfish passed on to the big pond in the sky as a result.
Since last week, or the day of â€œthe incident,â€Â the weather has remained cold and wintery.Â Weâ€™ve had somewhere in the neighborhood of fourteen inches of snow in seemingly endless spurts.Â The fish are keeping a sluggish vigilance near the bottom of the pond, and I canâ€™t blame them.Â Booker has become gargoyle-like in his hovering.Â He watches and watches and watches.Â Iâ€™m guessing the fish are mega-creeped out.
Itâ€™s hard to tell if Booker is wondering if the fish are:
- Â Ghosts.Â How could they survive his teeth? They couldnâ€™t.
- Â Zombie fish waiting for their chance to eat his brains in revenge.
- Â A moving sushi bar.Â Maybe next time heâ€™ll try them with wasabi sauce.
- Catfish with nine lives. Well, eight more to go!
I watch Booker watch the fish and remain grateful.Â Resilience…the best part of my day.