Lauren B.
02-04-2007, 05:58 PM
I debated whether to write this post, but it is kind of funny so maybe everyone will get a chuckle out of it.
When I was about 4 or 5 years old, my parents had a large 55(?) gallon tank in the living room which was filled with various community fish. Being the born animal lover that I am (and not yet being allowed to have a dog or cat), I would try to interact with the fish. For some reason I thought it would be neat to get up-close and personal, so I would often stand on the side table, open the hood to the tank and put my hand inside in an attempt to befriend and "pet" the fish. Well, one day tragedy struck in an expected situation which scarred me for life (I tried to make that shocking sentence sound as "E! True Hollywood Story" as possible). As I stood in beside the aquarium, passing out my daily howdy-do's to my little finned friends, one of the fish took the opportunity for a kamakazi-style freedom and leapt out of the tank....right toward me....and right down inside my shirt. My little tiny t-shirt was tucked in my pants, so the fish was trapped, flopping around all wet and slimy and miserable, within the confines of my clothing. At that point I started crying and my mother promptly rescued the traumatized fish, as well as her equally traumatized daughter.
To this day, whenever I enter an aquarium shop, I get nervous walking through the rows of open tanks, certain that another fish will choose that exact moment, as I pass by, to fling itself out of the tank and land somewhere, flopping and wet, onto my person. I even closely inspect the floor of the open tank areas to see if there are any little expired fish carcasses and I avoid that tank, thinking that perhaps that particular breed might be the highly feared jumper.
So there's a moral to this story, and it's very simple: Don't let your kids pet the fish.
Thank you for letting me tell my phobic story. It has been a very theraputic release! thumbs2:
Lauren B.
When I was about 4 or 5 years old, my parents had a large 55(?) gallon tank in the living room which was filled with various community fish. Being the born animal lover that I am (and not yet being allowed to have a dog or cat), I would try to interact with the fish. For some reason I thought it would be neat to get up-close and personal, so I would often stand on the side table, open the hood to the tank and put my hand inside in an attempt to befriend and "pet" the fish. Well, one day tragedy struck in an expected situation which scarred me for life (I tried to make that shocking sentence sound as "E! True Hollywood Story" as possible). As I stood in beside the aquarium, passing out my daily howdy-do's to my little finned friends, one of the fish took the opportunity for a kamakazi-style freedom and leapt out of the tank....right toward me....and right down inside my shirt. My little tiny t-shirt was tucked in my pants, so the fish was trapped, flopping around all wet and slimy and miserable, within the confines of my clothing. At that point I started crying and my mother promptly rescued the traumatized fish, as well as her equally traumatized daughter.
To this day, whenever I enter an aquarium shop, I get nervous walking through the rows of open tanks, certain that another fish will choose that exact moment, as I pass by, to fling itself out of the tank and land somewhere, flopping and wet, onto my person. I even closely inspect the floor of the open tank areas to see if there are any little expired fish carcasses and I avoid that tank, thinking that perhaps that particular breed might be the highly feared jumper.
So there's a moral to this story, and it's very simple: Don't let your kids pet the fish.
Thank you for letting me tell my phobic story. It has been a very theraputic release! thumbs2:
Lauren B.