R.I.P. George and Hiccup
Hiccup (left) and George
After long battles with old age and disease my two fish George and Hiccup have passed away. It's a sad day.
Hiccup was known as the "praying fish" for years. She was born with a bad swim bladder that would make her butt rise way above her head when she swam. Ingeniously she learned to park her nose under the eave of a small temple in her tank, this way she could relax in a more natural pose. She would remain this way for hours, occasionally leaving her spot to eat and poop like a normal fish. But she always returned to her temple to pray again when she was done. In her prime she had an enormous tail that looked like the train of a fancy wedding dress. She had a gentle disposition was very peaceful to watch. She passed away yesterday.
George was one of a kind. I bought him because I thought he was a runt that was getting picked on in the tank at the fish store. Little did I know that he was a unique character, destined to dash my preconceptions.
It seems that George's genetic code was missing the sequence that tells a fish to stop eating. From the moment I dropped him into his tank until the moment he got sick, he never stopped. Literally. I'm not kidding. Not only did he eat the food I put in (which I quickly learned to ration) but he would suck the tank pebbles for minute amounts of algae that grow on them. Late at night I used to be awakened from a deep sleep by the sound of someone throwing rocks at my windows. It took about a year for me to realize it was George spitting out a pebble at the side of the aquarium. Day or night he never stopped. This went on for years. He became enormous. Huge. Fat. Giant! I had to get a bigger tank. Move up to newer, bigger and better filtration (three times). My little four-dollar, two-inch runt grew into Goldzilla.
I euthanized George this afternoon. His quality of life just seemed to have diminished to the point of it being cruel to keep him alive any longer. It was a really hard decision, but I know it was the right one.
They were the only two fish I've ever owned and they shared my life for the last seven, maybe eight years. They now rest under a tree I can see from my window. I'll miss them enormously.
