The Mysterious and Tragic Fish Massacre of '06.

For Juliette's first birthday, her Auntie Lisa got her a 10 gallon aquarium complete with fish. All I had to do was add water- or so I thought.

Our first few fish- save one- died. The first time I walked into Juliette's room and saw a dead fish ensnared in one of the fake plants, my heart nearly jumped out of my throat. It was quite freaky. So we bought more fish. Those ALL died, slowly over a period of a couple of weeks. The most disturbing was when the Angel Fish passed away. There is something very upsetting about seeing a dead Angel Fish floating in a tank. The most disgusting thing is when a fish carcass starts to get sucked into the vents of the water pump intake valve, and gets stuck there. Then you have to scrape it off, after which I bleach the pump and all its parts, add a little "contra chlorine" into my water, and try not to think about fish remains on my fingers.

Eventually I decided it wasn't me, because it couldn't be this hard to keep a few stupid tropical fish alive, and it must be that I had faulty fish. So I decided to find a new fish supplier, and this next set of fish seemed to survive happily- until our bottom feeder started cannibalizing them. I know it is supposed to be a vegetarian fish, but I think it just got territorial. It happened to my father in law, too, until he finally found his a new home in the pond down the street (or so he says.) Our mutant cannibalistic algae eater eventually died of natural causes (I swear) and the remaining fish breathed a sigh of relief, and greeted their newly purchased kin quite happily. For the next two years, we had a happy little fish habitat in Juliette's room- 11 fish of different sizes, shapes, and colors, all surviving contentedly in their colorful home.

Until Friday. When I left for work Friday morning, there were 11 fish- we fed them, and I counted as is my habit- no need to leave dead fish to the mercy of the intake valve. But when I came home Friday night... there were only 6. The three largest fish were swimming around, a bit out of sorts ( ie, upside down or sideways). The other three were dead, all clumped in a corner- like they tried to survive by banding together. So futile. The other five were no where to be found.

No, they didn't jump out in a mass suicide. No, they didn't get sucked into the water filter. No, they weren't snagged in any of the plastic foliage. They were simply not there.


Eerie, isn't it? Pretty, colorful, but devoid of life.


While I was standing there pondering this mysterious fish disappearance, two things happened. First, I noticed a strange smell- like burning plastic. Then, suddenly, sparks flew up from the corner of the fish tank, and the heating element exploded.

So then, in my own version of CSI, I did some investigating (after turning off the power strip, of course): I put my hand up to the side of the tank and I noticed that it was very very warm. I concluded that Juliette's fish had been cooked- overdone, in fact, to the point of disintegration. The 3 that survived were the largest of the bunch, and therefore had a little more staying power.

I immediately added cold water to the tank, and the three survivors looked very refreshed. I scooped out what I could of the three others, and then pushed the whole aquarium out of Juliette's room. I couldn't leave such a horrific crime scene in her bedroom, could I?

The next day I did a complete tank revitalization: new rocks, new plants, new water. New heater, guaranteed for 3 years. Next week we'll buy more fish.

The moral of the story: Just when you think you have everything under control, the heating element malfunctions and cooks your fish.