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Take A Walk On The Wild Side

By Dave Barry

The Miami Herald

7-12-4

 

Pets are good, because they teach children important lessons about

life, the main one being that, sooner or later, life kicks the bucket.

 

With me, it was sooner. When I was a boy, my dad, who worked in New

York City, would periodically bring home a turtle in a little plastic

tank that had a little plastic island with a little plastic palm

tree, as is so often found in natural turtle habitats.

 

I was excited about having a pet, and I'd give the turtle a fun pet

name like Scooter. But my excitement was not shared by Scooter, who,

despite residing in a tropical paradise, never did anything except

mope around. Actually, he didn't even mope around: He moped in one

place without moving, or even blinking, for days on end, displaying

basically the same vital signs as an ashtray. Eventually I would

realize -- it wasn't easy to tell -- that Scooter had passed on to

that Big Pond in the Sky, and I'd bury him in the garden, where he'd

decompose and become food for the zucchini, which in turn would be

eaten by my dad, who would in turn go to New York City, where,

compelled by powerful instincts that even he did not understand, he

would buy me another moping death turtle. And so the cycle of life

would repeat.

 

I say all this to explain why I recently bought fish for my 4-year-

old daughter, Sophie. My wife and I realized how badly she wanted an

animal when she found a beetle on the patio and declared that it was

a pet, named Marvin. She put Marvin into a Tupperware container,

where, under Sophie's loving care and feeding, he thrived for maybe

nine seconds before expiring like a little six-legged parking meter.

Fortunately, we have a beetle-intensive patio, so, unbeknownst to

Sophie, we were able to replace Marvin with a parade of stand-ins of

various sizes ( " Look! Marvin has grown bigger! " " Wow! Today Marvin

has grown smaller! " ). But it gets to be tedious, going out early

every morning to wrangle patio beetles. So we decided to go with fish.

 

I had fish of my own, years ago, and it did not go well. They got

some disease like Mongolian Fin Rot, which left them basically just

little pooping torsos. But I figured that today, with all the

technological advances we have such as cellular phones and 'digital'

things and carbohydrate-free toothpaste, modern fish would be more

reliable.

 

So we got an aquarium and prepared it with special water and special

gravel and special fake plants and a special scenic rock so the fish

would be intellectually stimulated and get into a decent college.

When everything was ready I went to the aquarium store to buy fish,

my only criteria being that they should be (1) hardy digital fish;

and (2) fish that looked a LOT like other fish, in case God forbid we

had to Marvinize them.

 

This is when I discovered how complex fish society is. I'd point to

some colorful fish and say, " What about these? " And the aquarium guy

would say, " Those are great fish, but they do get aggressive when

they mate. " And I'd say, " Like, how aggressive? " And he'd

say, " They'll kill all the other fish. "

 

This was a recurring theme. I'd point to some fish, and the aquarium

guy would inform me that these fish could become aggressive if there

were fewer than four of them, or an odd number of them, or it was a

month containing the letter 'R,' or they heard the song Who Let the

Dogs Out. It turns out that an aquarium is a powder keg that can

explode in deadly violence at any moment, just like the Middle East,

or junior high school.

 

TRUE STORY: A friend of mine named David Shor told me that his kids

had an aquarium containing a kind of fish called African cichlids,

and one of them died. So David went to the aquarium store and picked

out a replacement African cichlid, but the aquarium guy said he

couldn't buy that one, and David asked why, and the guy

said: " Because that one is from a different lake. "

 

But getting back to my daughter's fish: After much thought, the

aquarium guy was able to find me three totally pacifist fish --

Barney Fife fish, fish so nonviolent that, in the wild, worms

routinely beat them up and steal their lunch money. I brought these

home, and so far they have not killed each other or died in any way.

Plus, Sophie LOVES them. So everything is working out beautifully. I

hope it stays that way, because I hate zucchini.

 

© 2004 Herald.com and wire service sources. .

http://www.miami.com/mld/miamiherald/living/columnists/dave_barry/9123

283.htm

--<>-- --<<<+>>>-- --<>--

 

Do you want to know what my body is? My body is the same as the whole

earth. Do you want to know what my mind is? My mind is the same as space

itself. Do you want to know what my vision is? I see there is nothing to

see. Do you want to know what I hear? I hear the unheard. Since I have

been seeing and hearing, why then do I speak of the unheard? " If you

listen with your ears, after all you cannot understand; when you hear

through your eyes, only then will you know. "

 

-Ssu-hsin

 

 

 

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Thank you for posting this, what a funhny story!!! I love Dave Barry.

 

The Stewarts <stews9 wrote: Take A Walk On The Wild

Side

By Dave Barry

The Miami Herald

7-12-4

 

Pets are good, because they teach children important lessons about

life, the main one being that, sooner or later, life kicks the bucket.

 

With me, it was sooner. When I was a boy, my dad, who worked in New

York City, would periodically bring home a turtle in a little plastic

tank that had a little plastic island with a little plastic palm

tree, as is so often found in natural turtle habitats.

 

I was excited about having a pet, and I'd give the turtle a fun pet

name like Scooter. But my excitement was not shared by Scooter, who,

despite residing in a tropical paradise, never did anything except

mope around. Actually, he didn't even mope around: He moped in one

place without moving, or even blinking, for days on end, displaying

basically the same vital signs as an ashtray. Eventually I would

realize -- it wasn't easy to tell -- that Scooter had passed on to

that Big Pond in the Sky, and I'd bury him in the garden, where he'd

decompose and become food for the zucchini, which in turn would be

eaten by my dad, who would in turn go to New York City, where,

compelled by powerful instincts that even he did not understand, he

would buy me another moping death turtle. And so the cycle of life

would repeat.

 

I say all this to explain why I recently bought fish for my 4-year-

old daughter, Sophie. My wife and I realized how badly she wanted an

animal when she found a beetle on the patio and declared that it was

a pet, named Marvin. She put Marvin into a Tupperware container,

where, under Sophie's loving care and feeding, he thrived for maybe

nine seconds before expiring like a little six-legged parking meter.

Fortunately, we have a beetle-intensive patio, so, unbeknownst to

Sophie, we were able to replace Marvin with a parade of stand-ins of

various sizes ( " Look! Marvin has grown bigger! " " Wow! Today Marvin

has grown smaller! " ). But it gets to be tedious, going out early

every morning to wrangle patio beetles. So we decided to go with fish.

 

I had fish of my own, years ago, and it did not go well. They got

some disease like Mongolian Fin Rot, which left them basically just

little pooping torsos. But I figured that today, with all the

technological advances we have such as cellular phones and 'digital'

things and carbohydrate-free toothpaste, modern fish would be more

reliable.

 

So we got an aquarium and prepared it with special water and special

gravel and special fake plants and a special scenic rock so the fish

would be intellectually stimulated and get into a decent college.

When everything was ready I went to the aquarium store to buy fish,

my only criteria being that they should be (1) hardy digital fish;

and (2) fish that looked a LOT like other fish, in case God forbid we

had to Marvinize them.

 

This is when I discovered how complex fish society is. I'd point to

some colorful fish and say, " What about these? " And the aquarium guy

would say, " Those are great fish, but they do get aggressive when

they mate. " And I'd say, " Like, how aggressive? " And he'd

say, " They'll kill all the other fish. "

 

This was a recurring theme. I'd point to some fish, and the aquarium

guy would inform me that these fish could become aggressive if there

were fewer than four of them, or an odd number of them, or it was a

month containing the letter 'R,' or they heard the song Who Let the

Dogs Out. It turns out that an aquarium is a powder keg that can

explode in deadly violence at any moment, just like the Middle East,

or junior high school.

 

TRUE STORY: A friend of mine named David Shor told me that his kids

had an aquarium containing a kind of fish called African cichlids,

and one of them died. So David went to the aquarium store and picked

out a replacement African cichlid, but the aquarium guy said he

couldn't buy that one, and David asked why, and the guy

said: " Because that one is from a different lake. "

 

But getting back to my daughter's fish: After much thought, the

aquarium guy was able to find me three totally pacifist fish --

Barney Fife fish, fish so nonviolent that, in the wild, worms

routinely beat them up and steal their lunch money. I brought these

home, and so far they have not killed each other or died in any way.

Plus, Sophie LOVES them. So everything is working out beautifully. I

hope it stays that way, because I hate zucchini.

 

© 2004 Herald.com and wire service sources. .

http://www.miami.com/mld/miamiherald/living/columnists/dave_barry/9123

283.htm

--<>-- --<<<+>>>-- --<>--

 

Do you want to know what my body is? My body is the same as the whole

earth. Do you want to know what my mind is? My mind is the same as space

itself. Do you want to know what my vision is? I see there is nothing to

see. Do you want to know what I hear? I hear the unheard. Since I have

been seeing and hearing, why then do I speak of the unheard? " If you

listen with your ears, after all you cannot understand; when you hear

through your eyes, only then will you know. "

 

-Ssu-hsin

 

 

 

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