Smushmusements

I am, of course, NOT alluding to Manilow’s “Copacabana” …but to Weird Al’s fabulous parody song “Star Wars Cantina”

Now that that is clear… I have a fish.

After coming home to a begging, barking, needy dog for a good number of years, I find it strange to walk in the door and not be greeted very enthusiastically by some other living thing. As I miss my dog who I had to leave with my parents in NJ, my building does not allow pets, and I do not currently have a boyfriend to keep chained in my bedroom, I resorted to this:

Now, you may be fooled, but this is not an actual picture of my fish. Thank you Google images.

Anyway, that’s what he looks like. Also, he is CRAZY. I chose him because he was the only fish of his kind that was acting like a total nut job. Hence the clever name, Loco. I’m Puerto Rican. I am not fluent in Spanish and I can barely speak it, but for some reason, giving my fish a Spanish name makes me feel more connected to my heritage.

So my fish, -who I apparently designated as a male in order for him to better serve as my protector/companion in this cold, scary, lonely, Brooklyn apartment- was acting like a COMPLETE maniac in the Petco tank. He was doing a kind of fish freak out dance that involved swimming up and down with his fish nose pressed against the glass. He saw me and knew that we were meant to spend the rest of his life together.

Side note: I like how I assigned the male sex to this fish when, for all I know, SHE could have a fish vag.

I called over a Petco worker and asked for assistance in buying a fish. A kindly gentleman came over. I motioned to the tank and very eloquently stated, “I want that.” The guy couldn’t have been confused about which one I was motioning to, as Loco was the only fish of his kind in this tank. Apparently, he jumped out of his original tank next door, which was filled to the brim with other shubunkins. (That’s the kind of goldfish he is, a shubunkin. I couldn’t be happier upon finding out the breed. heh… shubunkin) So the guy scooped him out, which was an arduous task at best. Loco was playing hard to get. I instantly wanted him even more. Oh, human nature.

At first he couldn’t catch him and asked me if I wanted one from the tank next to it. I said “no!” a bit too forcefully, I now realize. I didn’t care. I was on a mission. So he scooped him out and looked at him.

“You sure you want this one? His tail looks all bit up,” the Petco employee said to me. “Them other fish musta been beatin up on him, that’s why he jumped into this tank”

My very fast response was: “No I want that one. He’s a fighter!”

The Petco employee made NO reaction to this, but proceeded to bag my fish and hand him to me. He never cracked a smile.

Loco and I rode the subway home from Union Square. This is when I realized that perhaps I’m crazy too because I found myself talking to him during the ride. Not like… long conversations, just idle comments here and there, that everyone on the train with me could and DID overhear.

Dogs and owners begin to look alike? True:

Much like my dog and I share the wide eyed yet adorable in a freaky sort of way commonality, my fish and I share the “crazy person on subway” commonality.

That is all.