I am thinking of naming the fish Ernest because he is. Then I thought maybe I could call him Ernesto or Che but his cool conservative blueness is somehow at odds with the flair and fun and out and out redness of those names. Ernest, the earnest fish. How is a fish earnest? How does one fly casual? I don’t know, he just is and you just do. Maybe Ernest is a cruel name for a fish; maybe I should just name him Glub because that’s what he does most. Maybe I should give him a grand American-Indian name He-who-chases-his-own-tail-for-no-good-reason-and-spends-far-too-much-time-making-bubbles. The tail chasing was rather amusing. The silly little thing thought he’s get more food if he made me pay attention to him. I have been ordered by mother not to overfeed him though and I remember the lessons of childhood. I don’t have a bath, you see, or a basement.
Then I see his little kinfolk in the news and I start to wonder if I am being unnecessarily cruel to him. Does my little fish really need a ten litre tank? He’s a very little fish and he seems quite happy in his two litre bowl. And I have no intention of turning him into a speaker fish. Well, not that sort of speaker fish, anyway. One day soon, possibly even today, I shall clean out and set his bowl to fishy rights. Next week I shall buy him some new weed (not from the guy downstairs though, I’m pretty sure that really would be animal cruelty) and maybe one day a little castle to call his own. No, other than naming the fish Ernest I do not think I am being cruel. I would happily give him a tank mate but I suspect he’d earnestly and thoroughly eat it.
I might go and ask him how he feels about being called Ernest.