Oh, for the LOVE--- of a disappearing pink fish.

It's 10:02 pm. I should be asleep. Instead, adrenaline is rushing through my veins and I am trying to calm my breathing and my thudding heart.

I just saved a life.

Not my kids-- they are fine. Not my hubby, or any other family member or friend.

No, the recipient of my heroism was not human in nature.

It was Fishyfishyfishy, "Ellie's" pink betta fish.

At about 6-ish this evening, I noticed her tank was getting nasty. So, I proceeded to clean it out. Ellie, who never pays any mind to "her" poor pet, was drawn to the action and watched the process wide-eyed. When I was done, she fed the fish (one of, I think 2 total times that she has fed the thing), and talked to it a little. This is the most attention Ellie has given that fish since Ricardo bought it for her. I've always been the one to take care of it, albeit a bit begrudgingly... cause, it's not supposed to be mine. Or my responsibility. I didn't buy it or ask for it, and yet I began going through the motions of taking care of this fish, thinking it would probably die soon anyway.

It hasn't. But it tried to tonight.

Anyway, so I cleaned the tank and filled it with cold water. As soon as I dumped the fish back in, she (yeah it's a girl) immediately got very lethargic and her fins kind of shriveled a bit. So I ran to the computer and googled.... Can betta fish get too cold?

Yes, my friends-- they can indeed.

So I ran (literally) to the fish tank and began dumping cold water out and running warmer water into the tank.

Within a few minutes she was moving again and back to normal.

Whew.

Fast forward to bedtime. I happen to glance over at the fish tank while getting my lunch ready for work tomorrow.

The. Fish. Is. Not. There.

Whaaaaaaaa.... ???

I put my face up against it, searching. There was no fish. It was not floating at the top. It was not lying on the bottom. It was simply GONE.

I frantically thought back on the evening; I couldn't remember Ellie ever being near the tank, and I know she'd never reach in there and pull it out anyway, without me knowing about it.

But it was GONE. I took off the lid and began to comb my fingers through the hot pink (told you it was a girl) gravel... I thought okay, did she somehow bury herself under here?

No fish.

At this point I am seriously beginning to freak out, and the tears are building. I don't like freaky, scary things like this, and I don't like mysteries. This was a mystery.

I turned to the very last 2 options-- the 2 cockle-type shells at the bottom of the tank. I had already picked each of them up and shook them out thouroughly-- a couple tiny pieces of gravel had fallen loose, but no fish.

But the fish had to be somewhere. I shook each one again. Nothing was loose in there. I plopped them back into the water, where they floated at the surface. I thought. I picked one up and held it up to the light, staring deep into its spiraling recesses.

Oh. My. Gosh.

This time, what looked to be part of the shell, was MOVING.

A slight, slow movement. The heavy, labored breathing of gills.

Gills of the pink fish who was trapped wrapped around the spiraling shell. I nearly had an attack!

Okay, think Whitney. What now??

Okay, so she was in there. I had found her. Had she gone in there to die?? Had the water still been too cold for her, so she went in there to keep warm?? If I could somehow shake her loose, would she just float to the top and continue her passing on to the next life??

Ellie normally would not even notice if the fish died-- but she had noticed it tonight, and even talked to it. I was sure she would notice it again in the morning, and it would be still fresh in her mind. What was I going to tell her if it didn't make it?

Ricardo had joked that he bought her the fish to teach her the lessons about life and death.
Right now, that didn't seem funny anymore!

My mind was racing. I shook the shell hard, but no fish came out. I grabbed small paintbrush and used the handle to poke her gently. But due to the shell's spiral, the only thing I could do would be to push her deeper into the shell. I didn't know if I should put her back into the water-- I think fish can drown, if their gills aren't working properly. But it seemed worse to leave the shell out of the water, where I was pretty sure she'd suffocate.

I put a dish towel down on the counter, and ran to the toolbox in search of a hammer. I was thinking to tap lightly on the shell and break it???????

Luckily, I did not find a hammer. I found a wrench. I ran back and adjusted it to a tiny setting, and began to clamp and snap pieces off of the shell, working closer and closer to the center spiral of the shell, where the poor fish was dying. I had to be careful not to pinch its poor tiny body with my tool, but I also had to work fast, as I knew she couldn't last long out of the water. Soon, I reached the center, and the shell broke in half. I tilted it over the tank and she unpeeled from the shell and fell into the waiting, welcoming water. I watched, holding my breath----

She began to breathe faster, normally. She swam! She was okay!!!!

So she had just somehow gotten herself stuck.

And I saved her. She's alive, and it's thanks to me.

I believe the Spirit guided me to action. 'Cause I normally don't think on my feet in a disaster.

And, somehow I now feel something closer than affection for the silly little pink fish. I... think... I might love Fishyfishyfishy. And I think she loves me too. As much as a fish can love.

Is that weird?? I --- We--don't care.  :)