FISH Update:

My African Cichlid fish is still alive. Upside down, but still alive. So, I did what I should have done on Friday, and ignored the fish store clerk's advice, and I bought some medicine and performed some fish doctoring. When I left work today, he was still kicking.

Several people have commented on the state of my fish, and wondered why the fish does not have a name. This has made me wonder, when is it that a pet requires a name? Most people don't name their fish. It's enough to know you have a fish tank. The 20 individual little swimmers are just fodder for the plecostimus, eventually.

However, when Carl had hermit crabs, they had names. A great big old snail we had we called grandpa snail. I think the pet earns a name by a combination of size and personality. That is, if it isn't quite big enough, we anthropomorphize our pets, or if they are of enough size, they also carry enough brain to interact with the family. We have to call them something, so we know how we feel about them, or, we have to call them something, so they know what they are called in the pack. Did Grandpa snail ever respond to being called Grandpa? No, but he did respond to an algae chip dangled in the water. He would truck up the side of the glass, and actually eat the algae chip out of my hand! That's a hell of a lot of personality for a snail, and earned him that name.

This is the situation: The fish is big, for a fish store tropical fish, and does respond to me in a variety of ways, and in the last few days, I can't help but feel sorry for the little son of a bitch. He meets both criteria of anthropomorphic personality and size, so even if he only has the name for one more day, he is named.

I call him Afrika Bombatta. I hope Li'l Afrika makes it through the night.