It’s always good to tell a fish story. I am a fool. As I was watching my Cichlid tank last week I noticed that the eggs my mama cichlid was guarding – let’s call her Mama Cass – were gradually disappearing. I checked my fishy websites and pondered the possibility that she was a mouth breeder – a fish who carries her young in her own mouth for protection – but ultimately I decided that she was pulling a mama hamster and engaging in a little infanticide. So, when all the eggs were gone on Friday I decided then that the tank was large enough for another Cichlid. Again with my web tutor, and the advice of the eighteen year old at the fish place, I selected a fire mouth as tank compatible with convicts.

They got along ok over the weekend – little nips – some small territory disputes – but nothing major until Sunday. The fire mouth, who I had named Ted for no real reason, got jacked. Mama Cass bloodied his lower lip and the little male Cichlid – who shall remain nameless at this time – kept attacking his underbelly. I rescued Ted and put him in the hospital tank – he was clearly stunned and listless and by Monday’s lunch break he was dead as a doornail wedged under the heater in the ten gallon. He got flushed, and I sympathize here with Andrew, flushing a fish feels defeatist, you have a sense that you could have saved them if only you were a better observer or a more artful chemist. I only lost one small Cherry Barb in the major tank switch over, so my lucks been pretty good.

Monday night at bowling, Eric informed me that Convicts like to hide their eggs and that in a few weeks I should have abundant fry emerging from all corners of the tank. I put poor Ted in with a breeding pair in hyper defense mode, even though he was bigger than Mama Cass, he didn’t stand a chance. The team murder seems to have brought the cichlids closer together, the teamwork has produced a new level of trust and I think their relationship is really blossoming, which is a good thing, considering the added responsibility of being new parents. I’ll have to think for a bit about gangland killings and pick a good name for our littler killer, one that suits his devious ways. What about Lead Belly to stick with the musical theme? I like it.