Jude got a fish on Friday. He picked the gravel (green, of course!), picked the fish, and debated all the way home whether he was red-orange or orange-red.


He named him Louie. He has been asking me about three times a day to feed the fish, but this fish does better being fed every other day or so. I think that's been a little frustrating to Jude.


Louie's new home is beside my "books to read" pile. Maybe if I prop one open beside him he can dictate to me while I work in the kitchen. What do you think?


Louie is a Siamese Fighting Fish, and therefore destined to a lonely, solitary existence in this jar. Hopefully no one dumps anything in his water that shouldn't be there (NOAH!) or gives him too many blood worms so he dies in a myopic overindulgent orgy. I've never had a fish before, so I think I'm a little bit worried every time I pass this jar that I'm going to see him belly-up, thereby proving my complete inability to care for a pet that should be so "low-maintenance" that a child can do it. (I think I've been scared by too many finicky gold-fish stories.)

I wonder if he is related to Foo? Somehow, I don't think he'll ever tell.

(I wonder if he's even a "he?!" Hee.)