My kids, to this day, don’t really get my meaning when I nix an attempt to acquire another pet. I say I just can’t handle any more animals. Psychologically. The kid (usually Gabe nowadays,) swears up and down that that’s not a problem because he’d take care of it. For now, he’s taking care of a betta fish (discounting the 4 cats and 1 dog which are givens for the moment.) That will have to do. Here’s what I mean by psychologically.
Last night’s dream involved fish. I’m sure that’s because we do have the one full time resident--the betta of undetermined gender, and the vague name “Fishy.” Also there are Barbie and Ken, the goldfish, who often accompany Rachel home on breaks. I think this dream was more goldfish-centric.
There were five fish in the tank. Goldfish, but shaped more like nerf footballs, and several colors. Two of them were, in fact, the size of nerf footballs. Clearly they had outgrown their tank, in a serious way. What to transfer them to? I found a blue plastic wading pool. You know, the kind that crackles and buckles when it’s full of water and you try to move it. Still, we filled it with water and moved the fish in. Problem #1. It had no top. Which one or both of the big fish immediately took advantage of by leaping over the side. I caught one in the act, and one on the carpet, and put them back in. Then I attempted to shore up the sides of the pool somehow, to make leaping harder, but every attempt to handle the pool resulted in a collapse of that edge, and several fish sloshing or leaping over the edge with the current. The dream ended with me at the pet shop, wondering if the 50 gallon tank would be big enough.
I had dreams of the same theme when we had gerbils. In those dreams the top of the cage had been left ajar, or they’d gnawed through the galvanized steel base of their habitat. Whatever, there were always endangered (and apparently suicidal) little animals in these dreams, and I didn’t need the extra anxiety.
Gabe wants a snake. No, I say. And I mean it. I’m sure, in my dream, that snake would be under my pillow. I do not fear non-venomous snakes. But I’d be waking up in the middle of the night and looking under my pillow in a disoriented haze to make sure I wasn’t squishing the little thing.
