Le mort de Petey
I've been going to real estate school for the past week and a half. Since it's not certain I'll be able to find gainful employment in my field in New Orleans (not exactly a high tech mecca), I figured real estate might be an OK Plan B career alternative. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the idea of me driving people around to look at Metairie ranch houses and Uptown shotgun doubles, but that's another issue.
I've been hanging around with a group of women in class who I refer to as "the cool kids": Donna, Ann, and Jackie. There are men in the class, but they seem to be solitary types, or at least types that don't hang with real estate women (little do they know what their future portends). We talk during break (10 minutes every hour) and go to lunch together (Luther's BBQ). Donna's from Houma, Ann from Lake Charles, and Jackie's a New Orleans native. They're all pretty cool people.
It turns out that Ann is an aquarist. She used to live in DeRidder but about three years ago moved to Lake Charles to live with her new husband. Once she got her dog settled into the new digs, she prepared to move her fish. This entailed setting up the new aquarium at her new home and letting it run for two months without fish - she wanted to make sure the water was OK and that all the kinks were worked out before she transported her fish to Lake Charles. Eventually, the day came for the big move.
Upon arriving at her home in DeRidder, she scooped each fish out of the old aquarium and into a bag of water to be driven to Lake Charles. Anyone who's had fish knows how sensitive they are to water temperature, pH, etc. Ann fully expected to lose at least one of her fish during the trip. However, she was hopeful that Petey, her black rainbow shark, would make the trip OK. She referred to him as her pH tester - if he was a shade gray, the water's pH was not good. Once Petey and all the other fish were loaded up, she began her drive to Lake Charles. Before she left, though, she noticed Petey was a little gray, which she took to mean he was a bit stressed out.
Ann and her fish arrived in Lake Charles without any casualties. She placed them in their new home and things looked like they were going swimmingly (sorry). Petey was still a little gray, though. She went about her business and a while later saw Petey bobbing vertically in the water. Oh well, he didn't make the trip. She scooped him out of the aquarium and began preparing his funeral.
Having had fish for a while, Ann has some very set ways in dealing with dead fish. She does not flush them down the toilet, that's inhumane. As with her other dead fish, she placed Petey in a Glad sandwhich bag, smashed his head with a hammer to put him out of any misery he might still be suffering, and threw him in the garbage.
Later that evening, Ann read about rainbow shark fish in one of her fish books. The book mentioned that it was possible for rainbow shark fish to faint in times of high stress and that one shouldn't mistake it for death.
Moral of the tale: don't catch the vapors around Ann.
I've been going to real estate school for the past week and a half. Since it's not certain I'll be able to find gainful employment in my field in New Orleans (not exactly a high tech mecca), I figured real estate might be an OK Plan B career alternative. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the idea of me driving people around to look at Metairie ranch houses and Uptown shotgun doubles, but that's another issue.
I've been hanging around with a group of women in class who I refer to as "the cool kids": Donna, Ann, and Jackie. There are men in the class, but they seem to be solitary types, or at least types that don't hang with real estate women (little do they know what their future portends). We talk during break (10 minutes every hour) and go to lunch together (Luther's BBQ). Donna's from Houma, Ann from Lake Charles, and Jackie's a New Orleans native. They're all pretty cool people.
It turns out that Ann is an aquarist. She used to live in DeRidder but about three years ago moved to Lake Charles to live with her new husband. Once she got her dog settled into the new digs, she prepared to move her fish. This entailed setting up the new aquarium at her new home and letting it run for two months without fish - she wanted to make sure the water was OK and that all the kinks were worked out before she transported her fish to Lake Charles. Eventually, the day came for the big move.
Upon arriving at her home in DeRidder, she scooped each fish out of the old aquarium and into a bag of water to be driven to Lake Charles. Anyone who's had fish knows how sensitive they are to water temperature, pH, etc. Ann fully expected to lose at least one of her fish during the trip. However, she was hopeful that Petey, her black rainbow shark, would make the trip OK. She referred to him as her pH tester - if he was a shade gray, the water's pH was not good. Once Petey and all the other fish were loaded up, she began her drive to Lake Charles. Before she left, though, she noticed Petey was a little gray, which she took to mean he was a bit stressed out.
Ann and her fish arrived in Lake Charles without any casualties. She placed them in their new home and things looked like they were going swimmingly (sorry). Petey was still a little gray, though. She went about her business and a while later saw Petey bobbing vertically in the water. Oh well, he didn't make the trip. She scooped him out of the aquarium and began preparing his funeral.
Having had fish for a while, Ann has some very set ways in dealing with dead fish. She does not flush them down the toilet, that's inhumane. As with her other dead fish, she placed Petey in a Glad sandwhich bag, smashed his head with a hammer to put him out of any misery he might still be suffering, and threw him in the garbage.
Later that evening, Ann read about rainbow shark fish in one of her fish books. The book mentioned that it was possible for rainbow shark fish to faint in times of high stress and that one shouldn't mistake it for death.
Moral of the tale: don't catch the vapors around Ann.
