Trolled my loved ones yesterday by posting on the family chat that I’d got a new pet.
They’re all afraid that I might go out and buy a new puppy with no warning or discussion, as I’m obviously so out of control and unable to be trusted. It’s a legacy of my purchase of Goofy a year ago, which sent shock waves through the family unit. It’s quite hurtful, actually. I suppose I don’t help myself by posting the occasional photo of dogs looking for new homes.
Anyway, the comment was followed by this photo:
It’s a bit ironic that a couple of years after lying to the sales assistant at the pet shop about the number of fish we had, in an attempt to avoid condemnation for overstocking the pond, we were now down to two. The great kingfisher massacre of 2019 is history, but unfortunately history repeated earlier this year and there was a Goofy related death toll that severely depleted our stock of fishy friends. The gardener made us a new net that was spoodle proof but not before we lost numerous fish including David and all the ones we had inadvertently bred over the years. Initially we were left with three: the indestructible Jackie, Edward (Cullen, pale and interesting), and Lightning McQueen (named for his paint job). Mysteriously, Lightning also disappeared a couple of months ago, I’m not sure how? Hence the need for another goldfish to cheer the place up. So yesterday I took the opportunity to acquire a perfect specimen to call my own, rather than one of the misshapen oddities that my offspring always choose for some reason. The new one is beautiful, a classic golden fantail.
Now I just need to come up with a name. I could go with Pablo, the surprisingly popular name amongst Goofy’s obedience course classmates. Finn is a classic for a fish, but it’s already been taken by my newly fledged son, who may not appreciate the honour and consider it plagiarism. I’m currently leaning toward Fanny.