Tank Fatality #2

Today is the one week anniversary of our fish tank, and we already have had our second fatality.

Both are excusable. One of our frogs was pummeled by Mr. Plec’s tail, for trying to hoard an algae wafer. One of our danios died from being genetically pathetic—skinnier, weaker, and less wriggly than the others.

When you add the little southern red-backed vole our dog killed last Saturday, 146 U Street NE has experienced a great deal of animal carnage in one week—particularly for a vegetarian home.

We bought my brother’s fish tank for the mesmerizing fascination of watching fish swim. The placid mental state we anticipated enjoying has been severely startled by two deaths in one week, and further spooked by the paranoia resulting from our total ignorance of aquarium care.

We do respect Mr. Plec’s right to correct the injustice of food-hogging and realize that genetic frailty is more likely than not in fish sold at a Petsmart for $1.29 a piece. However, the rapid demise of 14% of our tank’s inhabitants does make us wonder about the morality of owning fish. Is the lulling pleasure of watching fish swim valuable enough that it justifies trying to create a cramped, counterfeit ecosystem for tropical fish from contaminated DC tap water? It would be intriguing to follow this line of thought into the “gaze theory” that dance critics babble about, but I’ll restrain myself. I hate the “gaze theory”, particularly the feminist version.

Of course, since we did buy fish from Petsmart, instead of catching them in the wild, these fish would not have had any different experience. They would have died in some tank at some point, and they probably don’t care which one.

I would prefer they wouldn’t die in mine, at least not in such quick succession.