Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern is what I wanted to name the goldfish that we "won" at Meadowfest three weeks ago. I wanted to be able to name them that because I wanted to be able to say, "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead" and seem sophisticated and witty.... when the fish died.

In Hamlet, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are used by the king in an attempt to discover Hamlet's motives and to plot against him. Hamlet, however, mocks them and outwits them, so that they, rather than he, are killed in the end. They are minor characters in an epic story of Hamlet. Nobody mourns their loss and nobody cares that they are dead. Just like goldfish.

I was overruled, and fish were named Nemo and Dori, from everybody's favorite fish movie (excluding Jaws) Finding Nemo. Guess what Dori, is dead. I just secreted her out of the bowl and flushed her down the toilet before anyone could notice. I am responsible for her death. I killed her with kindness.

After surviving and thriving the two weeks, here in Casa O'Rourke, I thought that it might be nice if I did some reseach on how to care for these creatures, that my children, and I, have enjoyed watching frolic in the bowl. So, I did a little research online and found that, 1) these fish need 1.5 gallons of water each to be healthy. I have two fish in 1 gallon. So that is strike one against them. 2) While a filter system can help, the water should be changed every two to three weeks.

It has been three weeks. The water was getting quite cloudy. So, I followed the advice of the the online fish care folks and changed the water. I did everything right, but when Dori and Nemo were put back into the bowl with the clean water they didn't adapt too well. They became very sluggish. And Dori died.

As I am writing this, Tiernan just walked into the kitchen looking for his other goldfish. At first, I told him that I didn't know where Dori was, she must have just disappeared. But of course, he wanted to look for her. Very quickly, I realized that this was a bad strategy and owned up to Dori's death. I did not, however, tell him that I flushed her down the toilet.

I explained that I tried to make their bowl healthier for them and I must have done something wrong and she died and Nemo (the bigger of the two fish) wasn't feeling too good either. As of 10 minutes ago, Nemo is also listless, but is swimming more and looking better than Dori did an hour ago.

"Where is Dori?" came the question. I told Tiernan that Dori died and went to the big fish bowl in the sky. I really did say "big fish bowl in the sky", as I said it I couldn't believe what I was hearing myself say. I tried to explain that Dori went to a better place, with a huge pond and lots of other fish to play with.

"Can we got there and see her?" he said.

I thought, death is "the undiscover'd country from whose bourn, no traveller returns" but I Just said "no, we can't."

So... we started talking about death and heaven. I told him that was sorry that Dori died and we should pray for her and ask God to help Nemo get better. "Dad, I miss Dori," and he buried he face in his hands. Coming from anyone else, I'd say that missing a goldfish was silly, but it broke my heart.

"I am really sorry, buddy," is all I could manage. If I would have just let them continue swimming around in their filth, I would not be having this conversation with my son. Damn you, online fish site!! You shamed me into caring for these creatures, beyond feeding them and look what happened, I killed on fish and the other one's life is hanging by a thread. How did I managed to keep two human children alive this long? I can't even care for fish. I certainly don't feel sophisticated and witty.

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Bubble Popping

Our little family is expanding. More mouths to feed. More lives to be responsible for, more blog fodder.

Yes, Clan O'Rourke has grown over the weekend, we've adopted two goldfish, Dori and Nemo.

We attended MeadowFest on Saturday. It was held down in Secaucus. (pronounced See-Kaw-Kus, not Sic-cukus, as some non-North Jerseyites contend. Other often mispronounced town names are Garfield: pronounced Ga-feeld and Moonachie: pronounced Moon-A-Kee. Also, Statten Island is actually pronounced as one word, i.e. Stateneyelund.)

But back to Meadowfest, a celebration of the Meadowlands. It was great for the kids, pony rides, a petting zoo, bouncy houses, pontoon boat rides with tours of the meadowlands, live music, live animals, pig races, birds of prey, and general carnival fare, as well as a cadre of environmental groups all spread out among the mosquitoes in the beautiful county park at the base of Snake Hill or Laurel Hill, as is officially known. Yes, that Snake Hill. The one that the eastern spur of the NJ Turnpike cuts through. A quick and interesting history of Snake Hill can be found here. We try to entertain and inform here at The Poop Truck.

The day was a lot of fun. While we didn't get to take the eco-poontoon boat tour, Tiernan did get to engage in hot petting zoo action and a play around of mini-golf. The golf and the petting zoo were the highlights for Tiernan. I don't think Reagan had a highlight. For her, the day consisted mainly of trying to wiggle free and run around and crying and waiting in line and watching Tiernan do things that she was just too young to understand. She was cranky. But she liked being outside and got a laugh watching the pig races.

It was just as we were about to leave when our lives were changed forever. Tiernan spotted the goldfish game. The traditional carny game of tossing a ball in a small fish bowl and win a goldfish. Well, I forked over the $3 and my boy and I earned, I say earned because, the fishwrangler kept feeding me more and more balls until we each won a fish in a jar.

Great. I love fish. However, we have a minor complication. It is literally a three-mile walk back to where the car is parked. (In the interest of full-disclosure, a free shuttle bus was provided, but dramatic license is sometimes needed to keep the reader interested.)It could have been a long walk. I actually think we parked closer to the house than to the MeadowFest. It was very well attended, considering it was a party in a swamp. There were a lot of people there. Many, many with goldfish, which leads me to believe that rather than "win" the fish with my outstanding fishbowl pitching skills, I bought the fish and was allow to toss some balls for a while just to look cool in font of my son. It is kind of an empty moral victory, but I will take it.

So we've got the fish and it is a long walk (potentially). We have no stroller. We have two tired kids and two fish in jars. That is four precious lives, (some way, way more precious than others) in four tired arms, plus the ubiquitous bag-o-baby crap. Fear not, our friendly Fishwrangler has a solution. For a further investment of $7 dollars, I can upgrade from fish jar to a fish tank capable of holding multiple fish. A fish tank with a handy handle for carrying, plus a handful of colored rocks to make my new aquarium more appealing to the fish, and a small container of fish food. Sold. Thank you, friendly fishwrangler.

I just paid $10 for $1.50 worth of plastic and two fish that will probably be dead by the time we get to the car.

To make a long walk short, all six of us survived the walk to the car (and the bus ride) and ride home. Two of us fell asleep on the way home. Hint: The fish were very excited at the prospect of someday seeing our toilet bowl, they remained awake.

The kids slept. The fish swam. The parents talked -- mostly about what the hell we were going to do with the fish when we got home.

Once we got home we transferred Nemo and Dori, from new tank to a larger more stable fish bowl and a small filter that we've had stored in the basement for just such an occasion. It is a relic from my pre-parenthood life, when I went through a lets get an aquarium phase. I settled for a Siamese Fighting Fish, AKA a beta. A fish that is virtually impossible to kill, but I managed for find a way to kill it and the two others that followed him down the toilet.

The beta's died, but their home lived on in the basement, waiting for my future son to want a fish. At last, we've come to the true milestone of this story. (Its been a long journey hasn't it) Tiernan has his first pets. (Maggie does not count. She is BK, Before Kids.) It is the first in what I predict will be a long line of various assorted creatures that will be offered shelter by Clan O'Rourke.

Once the fish were transferred to their new home, the question became "Where do we put the fish bowl?" I didn't want it in the kitchen or living room. I don't want to put it too low, so the little hands can try to cuddle Dori and Nemo, but on the other hand I don't want them up too high that Tiernan and Reagan can not see them either. The fish now reside in the den on top of the toy storage unit - out of reach but in viewing distance. All have been sternly and strenuously warned not to touch the fish bowl.

Well, maybe not that far out of reach. Tiernan woke up Sunday morning and immediately wanted to check out his fish. So he went down stairs to wake up Dori and Nemo. A few moments later he is at the bottom of the stairs screaming. "Dad, there is a problem with the fish! Dad! Dad!"

My first reaction is the one or both fish are dead. I come down and check it out. I am happy to report that both fish were alive and well, but there was a problem with the filter. The hose shook itself loose and fell out of the bowl. Not a big deal, but you will agree that the boy has keen eye.

Later that day the hose come out again, but this time there was quite a bit of water. "Tiernan, were you playing with the fish bowl?"

"No. I was just trying to pop the bubbles from the filter and the hose came out." A quick clean up and another stern warning were needed.

I think I am going to start a pool. The pool will have to prizes, one for the correctly predicting the life expectancy of these fish and another predicting the first time (and last time) the bowl is spilled. It is a good chance that both events will happen at the same time.

Anybody that wants in let me know.

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