So, once the kids figured out that they couldn’t carry around the fishbowl like a stuffed animal, we settled into a fish sitting routine. The kids started to forget they were there, Ben and I cleaned the bowl a couple of times, and I had taken over most of the feeding responsibility now that the novelty had worn off.
I should have known that things were going too well. One afternoon when Ben and I were working at the dining room table, I went into the kitchen to get something to drink. A quick glance at the fishbowl stopped me in my tracks…I could only see one fish in the fishbowl!
Stepping closer, I was shocked to see little drips of water leading to the sink, and I caught a glimpse of the more energetic fish laying on top of the garbage disposal opening.
“Ben!” I yelled, “come quickly! Aaaahhhh!”
He dashed in, peered into the sink, and jumped backwards. “How did THAT happen?”, he managed to sputter.
“Beats me”, I replied, “but what do we do now?”
In retrospect, there were a lot of things that we could have done, but at that moment, with the fish teetering precariously at the drain opening, we saw very few options. Ben grabbed something, a napkin maybe, and tried to pick up the fish. Of course, it went sliding down the drain, into the garbage disposal.
Now what!?! Ben turned on the water…not like that would help the situation…and we contemplated our next move. There was no way we were going to be able to fish it out and no way to know if it had already slipped down the drain, so Ben threw in some leftovers and flipped the switch. (I plugged my ears in the other room)
Ugh…and it wasn’t even our fish. How do you explain that one…”yeah, your fish was so traumatized about being at our house that it tried to pull a Nemo and escape down the drain…”
Just one more reason why the Hammonds don’t have a pet…they don’t like us!
— Rachel
