Fishy...very Fishy...

So Francesca volunteered us to be a "host family" for Lolly, one of her class's Japanese Fighting Fish, over the holiday break. We were not sure how this was going to go, being we have Picky-Picky (our cat). For the most part everything went smoothly. Picky even slept a few nights in Francesca's room, where Lolly had taken up residence as well. Until Sunday. Sunday afternoon, we were hanging around the house, getting ready to go to a friend's for a few hours. I heard something upstairs fall, but did not think much of it. Francesca tends to pile her toys up in piles and one or more things usually falls over. Fast forward a few hours now...

We are back home and Scott is painting the front door. (It's now midnight blue - it was poopy brown. I love it now. Oh and Scott if you are reading this I think it needs a 3rd coat, but let me get back to the fish story). Scott happens to look at me and say "Babe is Francesca's door open?". We had been keeping the door shut the whole time the fish was vacationing at 62 Wesley. No reason to tempt the cat. OH MY GOD, I think. I RUN upstairs and look on F's dresser. NO FISH BOWL. I look on the floor. There it is...the bowl turned over, the top off, and the fish barely swimming in about 2 inches of water. HOLY CRAP I think. We killed the fish! How is my daughter going to show her face at school tomorrow? Wait, our silly little town has both PETCO and Pet Smart (we don't have a friggin' bookstore but we have 2 pet stores...I digress); if we killed it odds are Scott can find a replacement. I scoop up the fish in the top of the container and the bowl part and run into the bathroom. I dump the fish back in the bowl and add water, all the while screaming OH MY GOD OH MY GOD SCOTT GET UP HERE NOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW! He comes racing upstairs, paintbrush in hand, followed by Francesca, who quickly realizes what has gone down. She is now pacing and yelling BAD CAT BAD CAT at Picky Picky, who prances by the bathroom with a smirk on her face. Scott shooes us out of the bathroom, telling us that all this yelling is stressing the fish out and I stressed it more by adding cold water to the bowl. Oh thank goodness my husband had many a fish in his younger days.

A few minutes later Scott comes out of the bathroom, fish bowl in hand. Gavin has now joined us upstairs and thinks the whole situation is hysterical. Thankfully Lolly is breathing and has a heartbeat. Scott tells us that he shocked it back to life by connecting 2 wires to a 9-volt battery and shocking it, plus he did fishy CPR. He is such a smart-ass sometimes...So we shut Lolly back in F's bedroom, lights low, door shut! Damn Picky sat outside Francesca's bedroom, waiting for her chance to pounce again. I could not wait until Monday morning so Scott could return the fish safely to Francesca's classroom. We already told Francesca (and Gavin) NO MORE CLASS PETS VISITING OUR HOUSE. That's all I'd need, to be known as the family who killed the class pet. We'd have to move...