So after the great fish die-off last week, we went back to the store on Sunday for 3 more fish. We agreed not to name them until we saw if they survived. This time we carefully did not put any of the store water into our tank. We got them safely in, and this time I was on top of testing. And wouldn’t you know, the ammonia in the water spiked almost immediately!
We fought the ammonia frenetically. Added bacteria, ammonia-locking chemicals, and changed water like mad. At night, I threw in an emergency ammonia tablet, hoping some of the fish would survive the night.
Miraculously, all three survived the night, and I changed out water immediately that morning. But only 2 of the 3 fish ate any of the food I put in. The smallest was lethargic, hiding in corners. We sensed that this one was not going to make it—and we were right. By mid-afternoon, fish #12 had died. Daughter shed a few tears: “He was a good listener. He would sit there and listen while I talked.” She told me that if he had lived, he was going to be the next in the long line of Seashells we’ve had.
The other 2 fish seemed okay, swimming around rather vigorously when the ammonia levels dropped after a water change. I tested the water and changed water every 2 hours the entire day. The ammonia levels dropped and stayed dropped, although not quite perfect yet. Then the second night was upon us, and I used another emergency tablet overnight.
The next morning (Tuesday), both fish were still alive, and the ammonia levels had dropped a bit more overnight. However, one of the fish was acting badly. Not energetic anymore—and his mouth looked white. He did not eat, even when the food particles floated right past him. This fish already had slight tail-rot, so against my own advice I had started calling him Holey. Holey’s behavior deteriorated throughout the day. Then, in late afternoon, Holey died—and my daughter saw it happen.
My daughter was distraught. “He was a trooper. He tried so hard to stay with me, because he knew I wanted him to. He was swimming sideways. I sang to him, because I knew he wanted me to.” She insisted that his name was not Holey, but Holy “without the e” because it suited his personality. Many tears were shed over this fish and witnessing his demise.
I felt bad about Holy because I wonder if I had been more aggressive with the medicine that protects against tail rot and mouth fungus if I could have saved him. We have had fish survive tail rot before, but we’ve never had mouth fungus. I realized belatedly that the first fish had also had that crazy white mouth before its death. I had put the medicine in the water, but I know I missed a few times. If I had been aggressive with it, perhaps Holy would not have gotten the mouth fungus, since he was fine the day prior. But hindsight is 20-20, and I will never know the answer to my wondering.
So that left us with fish #14, who my daughter named Zippy. “Zippy comforted Holy. He’s a kind, good fish.”
Today is Wednesday, and I have tested the water every 2 hours. The ammonia has stabilized at a good level, and I have not changed water as frequently. Zippy had been scratching himself against things, indicating his skin was irritated from the ammonia. I added lots of a liquid that sooths and heals the slime coat. He stopped scratching a few hours later and has been swimming around all levels of the tank (they stick to the top when ammonia is high), so that seems good. Although he did not eat when I fed his this morning, I caught him grazing on the moss ball and algae later in the day, and he gobbled up a flake of food knocked loose when I changed the water.
As of this writing, he seems happy, and his mouth is not white. I have been crashing the tank with the medicine, as well as the ammonia detoxifier and nitrifying bacteria. It seems stable. We shall see if Zippy escapes the mouth fungus scourge.
Fingers crossed for Zippy.
Making Life Manageable—CoronaLife Day 250
First, because I know you are all waiting breathlessly, Zippy the fish is still alive as of this writing. I’m still keeping a close eye on the ammonia levels, and changing out water a couple of times a day, but it’s fairly stable.
Second, I am deep cleaning my house. No, not because of COVID exposure–because it badly needs it. It has been bugging me for a while now, but I haven’t had the motivation to actually embark on what seemed an insurmountable project.
I am not the neatest person in the world. (My mother will snort diet Pepsi out her nose when reading that understatement.) I am MUCH neater than I was when I was younger, mostly out of necessity. (When you reach a certain age, having specific places for things cuts down on the “where-did-I-put-that” moments.) I keep up with the must-cleans—bathrooms, kitchen, laundry. You know. But the rest of my house can go a while between good scrubbings. We are far from filthy, but I will not be winning any Good Housekeeping awards. And with a child who somehow manages to leave a trail behind her everywhere she goes, it is a bit of a Sisyphean task to start with.
However, when properly motivated, I can get a lot done quickly. That motivation is usually in the form of a parental unit coming over. We are not doing a Thanksgiving gathering in the Year of COVID, but my mother-in-law will be coming up to stay with us until the New Year. (We are all quarantining for 14 days prior to her arrival.) Nothing like a visitor to make you see the dust on the unused surfaces and the stuff stashed in corners for you to sort through “later”. Well, later is now.
We got rid of several bags of stuff, with more to go. Rooms are neat, carpets are clean, surfaces are shiny. Did I get every nook and cranny? No. There’s always more to do. Every time you clean something, the thing next to it starts to look dirty. But it is miles ahead of where I was at the beginning of the week.
Decluttering and heavy cleaning has made me feel a bit better (psychologically—physically it has reminded me that I am approaching a certain milestone birthday). The one good thing about cleaning is that when you have finished a room, you have that instant gratification of a job well done. And you’d best take that gratification instantly, because the next minute someone tracks in a leaf particle or a dust bunny hops in or crumbs somehow magically appear.
I tackled this huge job by breaking it down into smaller jobs—one room a day. By making it manageable, I could break that mental barrier down and get started, get it done. I tend to do this with my writing, too. I tell myself to just do one chapter, whether it be drafting or editing. Makes it feel achievable. With the writing, I usually end up doing more than one chapter, once I start.
Not so much with the cleaning. 😉
Whatever task you are facing that seems huge this holiday season, break it into its component parts. Make each one manageable, and savor the victory of each piece completed. You’ll be done before you know it!