There's something very fishy going on
When the kids were small I think I did a lot of compensating for being a separated mother, and in one rather peculiar attempt, I bought every conceivable animal I could find. Hamsters, guinea pigs, turtles, gerbils, dogs, cats and goldfish. Two of everything. The whole Noah's ark thing. We had drama every day. Some animal was unwell or in the case of the guinea pigs an escape was staged every day. One of them could get out of his cage and a massive hunt took up hours of my day which I will never get back. On one occasion, my son came downstairs at about eight years of age sobbing with a comatose gerbil in his hand. The glorified rat had lived in his room and he had omitted to feed it. I took it to the vet. I actually took a gerbil to the vet.
It appears I will never learn because at a function the other night a magician had included a goldfish in his act. The daughter of one of my friends was upset that said same goldfish was not having the life of Reilly and could not take him home herself. So of course eejit here took on the role of Good Samaritan and took him home in an ice bucket from the bar. The barman has committed my face to his memory. I'm sure a lot of barmen throughout the country have done so over the years. My behaviour can be a bit random after a few drinks. In the early hours of the morning a suitable home proved to be more difficult than I expected. I have loads of bowls but none of them glass and I was concerned that he might be fearful in the dark so a small glass salad bowl seemed the only sensible option. I hope he appreciated my concern.
When my son arrived in the morning to do his usual washing, after the initial shock of seeing a gold fish in a salad bowl on the kitchen table, he had the audacity to shout up the stairs "Jesus, Mum, how many drinks did you have, to be arriving home with a goldfish?" I refrained from reminding him of the gerbil that he killed. .