After five hours of being stood upon, my feet ache and my back is not in the slightest bit happy. On the other hand, I did manage to catch a fish. This was not, I hasten to add, a mere dangling of rod and line… this was a necessity before the poor thing explodes, which it looks very likely to do.
I had been keeping an eye on Round Fish for some time, concerned at the rate at which it was putting on weight. I have every sympathy with that problem. It had been swimming around fairly normally, eating and socialising, but its scales had begun to lift, its eyes to bulge and it looked more like a small ball with a head and tail tacked on either end.
Yesterday it had been having trouble. It now resembles a cross between a hedgehog and a pine cone, which means it almost certainly has dropsy. My son did his homework and read out that there is very little hope of survival due to kidney failure. But ‘very little’ is not ‘none’, of course. There was a flicker in my son’s eyes as he read those words; the last time we’d had sick fish, it had been the same. We had to do what we could.
The nicely balanced ecosystem of the pond has had time to develop. Pondweed and plants supplement the pumps to provide oxygen and shade… and a place to hide. To add to the problems, while Round Fish is unmistakeable when seen in the open, it is very difficult, if not impossible, to tell which white, orange and black splodges belong to which fish when glimpsed through the weed. It was only as we had finally locked the door ready for departure that I caught sight of Round Fish, dived for the net and managed to scoop him out and into the waiting infirmary tank… along with a rather surprised golden orfe. Not as surprised as I was when the orfe managed to escape and floundered across the decking…
I caught the slippery creature, returned it to the pond and installed an anti-heron and cat lid on the salt bath. While it cuts out much of the sunlight, it protects the little creature from attack and gives it shade. The poor fish, however, just looked forlorn and very strange with translucent scales sticking out in all directions. Confined to a new and constricted space, where the water tastes different and it is alone, I can barely imagine what poor Round Fish must be feeling.
I know that I, personally, felt awful. Not only had I upset the orfe rather badly with my butterfingered attempts at catching it as it gasped on the deck, I had taken Round Fish away from all he knows, and dumped him unceremoniously into a sterile, unfamiliar and frightening environment, just at a time when there must be some comfort for him in familiarity. I can’t explain to a fish that it is a last ditch attempt to help him heal.
There is something about watching fish that calms the mind; thoughts wander and parallels present themselves to understanding. Simon, the big ghost koi, had followed me around all morning, sending his requests for food winging skywards in the shape of bubbles as is his wont. He knows very well how to call down shrimp flakes from the heavens. The orfe, knowing he has a way of having his prayers answered, followed Simon. I tried to resist, but he looks at me so expectantly… The fish had all dived joyously through the ripples when I had turned on the hose to play across the surface of the pond. And I had gone from beneficent being to ‘cruel’ with the wielding of the net and the salt bath…
Except, I hadn’t, of course…I had really gone from fond indulgence to the tough love that tries, in all tenderness, to help, no matter what. Not that the fish would understand that… they would see only the swoop of the mesh through the water, removing one of their kin without reason when he was already suffering enough. They would not see how much it hurts to impotently watch the little fish, knowing there is little we can do except take the drastic measures that might give it a chance to heal, as well as protecting the rest of the fish from possible infections should we allow nature to take its course, leaving Round Fish in the pond to die and be consumed. Dropsy itself is not contagious… but some of the bacteria and parasites that can cause it can be a problem.
I can’t help but draw comparisons with our own lives, when we rail against cruel Fate, or wonder how a loving deity can allow suffering. We are happy enough to swim in the sunlit ripples of life, or send our prayers heavenwards to whatever divinity we perceive at the heart of creation, yet we are not so happy when things go wrong and our lives are caught in the web of fear and confusion. We too can be removed from all that is familiar, isolated and cut off from all we know and love… yet that may well be for a reason we are too small to see… and unable to understand. I cannot help but feel that there is more love at work in the world than we are aware of.
Sue Vincent's Daily Echo 
Waiting for a progress report.
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Still with us at present, though it looked bad this morning. Doing better this afternoon.
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Reblogged this on oshriradhekrishnabole.
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I love watching fish too. And as regards that last line, I really hope you’re right.
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I believe it implicitly, Richard… and have felt so much of it over the years.
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That’s good 🙂
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Yep 🙂
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Beautiful Sue and very poignant. I wonder if that’s how elderly feel being removed to a nursing home to get full-time care?
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They probably do… and I feel terrible about doing this to the poor fish, yet it is the only way we can try and help.
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Oh I do hope that the fish recovers soon.
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So do I, though there is little to be hopeful about at present. We will do all we can.
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Fingers crossed 🙂
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They are… and everything else x
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Beautifully put, Sue, and I hope you’re right about there being more love than we know…
good luck with Round Fish!
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It would take a lot to convince me otherwise… 🙂
So far Round Fish is holding on.
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Hope you’ll tell us what happened to Round Fish
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So far so good, Mary… but I am not optimistic, I’m afraid.
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Sue, what a lovely post. I always feel like there is more going on in our existence too. I loved the fish analogy. So fitting. ☺💗
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Thanks, Colleen. There is something about their movement that always gets me thinking. Just hoping we can pull Round Fish through now. ❤
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Thinking of you all and here’s to round fish’s swift recovery. 💗
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I am not optimistic… we can but try. ❤
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Very nicely written…
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Thank you, Maria.
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Hope the poor guy recovers – tough love is most times harder on us than on the ones we are trying to help. Sometimes you ‘gots to do, what you gots to do.” 😉 Fingers crossed!
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Indeed.. but there is no other way we can try and help him get through this. Everything is crossed.
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Poor little Round Fish… Hope he makes it. Such a lovely piece of writing, especially the last line. And that pic of the fish at the top of the post is just spectacular! He’s looking right into our eyes!
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That is Round Fish… you can see how bad he is… he’s supposed to be ordinary goldfish shaped.
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You clearly have a great respect for all living things and go the extra mile to take care of them. I do hope Round Fish recovers. A lovely post, if poignant!
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We have our fingers crossed… all we can do now.
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Here’s hoping for a miracle – please let us know.
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He’s still with us, so far.
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Whether it’s our dogs, cats, fish, birds, in the end we are gods to our “little people.” It’s the responsibility for easing their way through life. We hope for the best, prepare for the worst, and send fervent prayers that everything in our care will please remain in good health as long as possible. Good luck to fish and you!
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I think it is when they are sick that we really realise the kindred nature of life. They may be in our care, but the spark of life is a shared one.
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I believe the same, Sue. My parents had a dog with dropsy. About all Mom could do was make him comfortable in his last days.
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Sometimes that really is all we can do.
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