PICKY THE FISH

For my birthday, my neighbour down the hall, Carolyn gave me a fish bowl and a single Betta fish.

I was really busy at the time, and my first reaction was like, oh… ok. I was thankful but I felt like I was in one of those movies where the gross, slobby bachelor suddenly gets custody of a precocious child. Then, through the course of caring for the child (with many hilarious incidents), s/he breaks through my gruff exterior, and I eventually learn the value of love and how to love another human being. Actually, I didn’t really think a single fish was going to do that.

Anyways, for several weeks I didn’t name my fish because I just didn’t have the time nor a good reason to name him something. As I got used to my fish and observed his behaviour, I noticed something really odd about him. Most fish that I’ve had all exhibited similar feeding patterns. You’d drop the flakes into the water and they’d eat every flake they could see. They wouldn’t stop until they had nothing left to eat.

My fish, on the other hand, would only eat like the first two flakes or so it saw. It would not eat any more than that. The rest of the flakes would go untouched. I wasted a lot of food at first. Now, I have to feed him flake by flake, or else the rest goes to waste. Since he eats so little at a time, I have to constantly feed him.

Thus, I came up with the perfect name for him. Picky.

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