Nemo the sequel

So last week I was finishing up some laundry in the basement while Taylor was eating her lunch at the table. And as I was walking up the stairs to check on her, I hear her say, Hey, Nemo. Wanna chippy? And as I turned the corner I found her dipping a Nacho Cheese Dorito into the fish bowl, which she had moved from the center of the table to right in front of her. And when she saw me and the horrified expression on my face, she stopped cold, put the chip in her mouth and then asked me with a straight face, Should I give him grape too?

And you may remember how a few weeks ago I found out that she was pouring milk from her sippy cup into Nemo's bowl, and that explained why it was nearly impossible to keep the water clear. And after lecturing her as to why fishes aren't lactose-tolerant, and then thoroughly cleaning the fishbowl, I thought we were over putting random morsels in Nemo's living space. But I guess I was wrong.

And it's not like I can really blame her for thinking that her pet would eat all of the same yummy food that she does, especially when we live with Ruby Blue, also known as The Sweeper. Any smidgen of food that hits the ground, and our beloved lab is right there to clean up the dirty work. We've even busted our pooch licking out half-empty snack bowls that T has left unattended on the coffee table. And if you think that's gross… Well, then you don't have a dog and a toddler living under the same roof.

So after de-chipping Nemo's bowl after the whole lunch incident, and then giving Taylor another lesson on fish dietary etiquette, I thought we were in the clear. Well, all fuzzy fish-feelings flew right out the window when I discovered dear old Nemo floating belly-up yesterday morning before breakfast. Ah. Rest in peace, buddy.

And instead of alerting Taylor to the whole dead pet situation we had going on, I just quietly moved the fish-casket onto the kitchen counter and Chris made an emergency trip to PetSmart to purchase another dark red Betta fish. And when Miss T caught me cleaning out the bowl and rinsing fish carcass off the rocks and shells, she asked, Hey Mama, where's Nemo? And I just looked at her and said, He wanted to take a car ride with Dad and Ruby. He'll be right back. And she bought it.

And after Chris, Ruby and Nemo the second, got home, we put our next potential victim in his new home, where he fluttered and kicked with a level of ferocity that made us hopeful of survival. And Chris looked at me wishfully and said, I picked the most active one of the bunch… I told the guy we needed a real fighter. And one that might also have a digestive tract that can handle milk and Doritos.