Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Do Tiger Barbs Take Antidepressants?

This weekend I watched a television program about the modern day prophet, Thomas S. Monson. In it he told a story about how at the age of fourteen he saved a drowning girl from the Provo River by dragging her by the hair onto his inner tube and paddling with his free hand to shore. He said that he was embarrassed by the grateful parents of the girl and he didn’t particularly appreciate all the hugs and kisses he received as thanks.
I too saved a life this weekend. My victim, however a cherished part of our family, had no hair to grab. And I have to say I wondered how I would resuscitate a fish. Yes Tiger, our last remaining fish must have been a little sad this weekend. If I could get my hands on some Zoloft samples I could drop them into his tank like Alka Seltzer. Sunday between televised sessions of the LDS Conference I figured it was time to tackle the fish tank. A house of order, right? So with Bucko Grandma’s help we started to disassemble, scrub plastic plants, clean the glass, get the algae off the heater and the fake sea turtles that Tiger has to romp with, and see if we could keep the last little swimmer happy. But No! When I went to get Tiger off the dinning room table where we had put his temporary bowl until his spacious ten gallons were habitable again he, was gone! I called to the boys, “Where is Tiger?” No one knew and then I saw it. Tiger’s lifeless little orange and black body stuck to the berber next to the table. He had jumped. Was his life really that bad? So the counselor in me kicked in (my parents must be proud of all the college they paid for) and without thinking I jumped into action, scooped up the fish and dropped him back into the bowl. He bobbed up and down a few times. How exactly do you do CPR on a fish? They have no lips. I settled for nudging him on the side and then it happened- he swam! A little crooked at first but then his strength came back and we quickly deposited his traumatized little body back to the safety of his tank. I had done it. I had saved Tiger’s life. Now that is impressive. Right? It could become the parable of the suicidal fish. If not a parable than a dang great story none the less. But, do I think this experience will be published in the Ensign? No. Do I think Tiger’s story will be told from pulpits (like the lady saving starfish)? No. Church news? No. But neither do I have to tell my kids that Tiger missed his friends at Petsmart and so we put him on the porcelain subway for a visit like all the fish before him. Funny how we are able to pick them up when convenient and we always find them!