A few years ago in New Mexico, Barb, a coworker friend, bought a betta fish for her desk. She named the fish after me, because my name was the only Thai word she could think of. This beautiful red fish with its sparkly blue sequined tail swam into everyone’s heart and made a big splash as the office mascot. When Barb moved out of state, she asked me to take care of the fish, whom I nicknamed Hoony. Hoony entertained coworkers and office visitors at my desk for a couple weeks as papers were shuffled around and favors were exchanged. On the weekends, though, I started missing Hoony and decided that he was coming home. With the bowl’s glass lid taped in place, I drove Hoony home on the floor of the front passenger seat.
Caroline and I spent a lot of time sitting at the bar in our kitchen, so I placed Hoony’s bowl there as a way to keep him centered in our lives. Our cats took an immediate interest in their new house mate, wondering whether the water was part of their daily hydration regimen. Fortunately, the lid kept Hoony safe from any over curiosity. More-so than the cats, Caroline had a childlike fascination with Hoony. She explained in her small voice that she never had a pet fish before. I would catch her giggling as she dipped her finger in the water to pet its fin or squeal in delight as he nibbled at her finger. Some nights Caroline brought the fish bowl to bed with her, setting him on her nightstand.
When we moved from Taos, New Mexico to Berkeley, California, getting Hoony to our new home was a small source of anxiety. Fortunately, moving him was much easier than anticipated. I just poured him into a large Tupperware container and he rode in the car with us. We spent a couple of nights in the Grand Canyon where Hoony slept on the hotel-room console table. In Bakersfield, CA, he slept by our heads on the nightstand. Finally, we reached our destination in Berkeley and I poured him back into his little bowl.
In California, Hoony received his pineapple house; thus, dubbing his bowl Bikini Bottom. He also received four little snail companions, which we named Garys 1 – 4. Unfortunately Garys 1 – 3 didn’t thrive, but Gary #4 lived for nearly 2 years. Then a few months after we arrived in California, the Pandemic hit. As we were all getting claustrophobic from spending so much time at home, we decided to move Hoony and Gary #4 into a bigger tank. We’re talking a heater, water filter, and lights (that immediately stopped working). And more aquatic plants!
Two years later, it was time for Caroline and I to upgrade our own human bowl. This would be Hoony’s 2nd move. For a while, Hoony lived downstairs in Caroline’s home office. But I missed seeing him every day so I brought him into the living room. Most of the time Hoony just lingered between the filter and the heater, ready to chase down the pellets we dropped. Surprisingly, for a fish, he wasn’t a great swimmer. Often he would approach his food and take a big bite of nothing, as he missed a lot. Over the years he did get better at hunting. Once we bought him freeze-dried blood worms. However, when we plopped one into the bowl, the water rehydrated the worm and it was too big for Hoony to eat. Plus the worms were gross! Every so often, the cats would try to drink his water or eat his food. One time when Lil Bill peeked into the bowl, Hoony came up and nearly jumped out of the water, snapping at him. The surprised and hurtful look on Lil Bill’s face was priceless.
Hoony would go through periods where he made bubble nests. He would also alternate sleeping in his mermaid shaped ring or atop a plant leaf. Recently, as the weather turned colder, he spent more time at the bottom of his tank or in his pineapple house. I thought this was his hibernation phase. An entire week went by where he didn’t eat. But when I poked him with a chopstick, he would swim rapidly up to the surface to chase me. One morning last week, I poked him with a chopstick. Immediately I realized he was no longer with us. I let out an anguished cry.
Later that evening, we held a service for Hoony in our yard. I buried him beneath a tree and we memorialized him with funny stories from his life. I miss his beautiful, shiny scales and long, flowing fins. I miss feeding him and watching Lil Bill get jealous when I played with Hoony. But I am happy knowing that Hoony is peacefully swimming in the Big Ocean in the Sky. Hoony, 2016 – 2019, Rest in Paradise.
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