RobinWhiskers
- #1
This thread is in rememberance of Scuba. In February of 2017 I had all my research done, bought a 2.5 gallon tank and took home a Twin Tail Halfmoon Betta from Petsmart. I named him Scuba Ellis. He was my first fish and although I knew how to keep him alive I wasn't confident in my abilities. I loved feeding him his pellets, watching him swim around...he was perfect to me and that blue color was so beautiful...he gained many fans on his Instagram account. Oh, the way he'd beg for food and the way I'd talk to him on warm summer evenings...it was perfect.
Scuba first got little rips at the end of the fins. I was told by fishkeepers I messaged on Instagram that I worriedly would share every detail with it was normal for a heavy finned boy like Scuba to have slightly torn fins. Later those tears turned to pinholes and I did many water changes but that didn't help Scuba. Slowly, as much info as I collected and things I did, the pinholes turned to full-blown rips and tears in a matter of days. Scuba started losing that beautiful blue color.
It started in May. The things I tried included...tons of water changes, a new heater (I heard the old one's brand could leech chemicals), Jungle Fungus Clear, Kanaplex, Stress Coat, Stress Guard, Paraguard, Indian Almond Leaves, AQ salt baths, testing the water, lowering the water level, trying an all frozen diet (which I stuck with because I was a worry wart and I thougth Scoobs was bloating on pellets although he wasn't). I medicated with great caution of course, but Scuba eventually got to where all that color was gone and his fins looked horrible. Walking by his tank or even turning on the light in my room (I kept my room dark for months due to this) gave him very clear stress stripes.
Unfortunately I think I underfed Scuba, sometimes only giving him a bloodworm a day, because of my paranoia. However, I loved him and he was strong...but nothing worked. Okay, a series of 10 AQ salt baths took away a little lethargy...he went through phases, sometimes his spot to be sluggish all day would be by the filter. Eventually he would lay in his wooden heart hide and I feel bad but I'd wake him up often just to check on him. He'd lay completely flat sometimes. I'd have trouble sleeping because at night I'd keep checking on him and in the morning I'd always fear him dead but there'd he'd be, keep breathing...this made summer camp especially hard, being away from him all day.
I tried everything...oh, I tried everything...that Siamese Fighter was definitely one of his species, because he fought that illness so well. In July we went on an 8 day vacation and Scuba survived that with a bloodworm a day and no water changes. Every fish person I talked to told me he'd die while I was gone and once I was notified by the pet sitter he wouldn't eat but I think he didn't see it because I hear he did minutes later.
In September, one day I knew it was coming. He swam in a few circles but then he would lay completely flat with no control of swimming at all. And that boy...who lived for food...wouldn't eat. I lost my sanity trying to make that fish better and looking in his little eyes and seeing him gasp was heartbreaking...I tried one more AQ salt bath that day but something told me this wouldn't be good...
Nobody knows what Scuba had, you'd think it would be fin rot but nothing helped it and he lost all color and lots of his energy. Sometimes I think it was velvet, sometimes I think it's something completely unique to the Scoobs himself. His story is one I definitely find tragic but inspirational in a way. Oh, that good fish...
That night I knew it was his time...I wish Scuba didn't have to lose his fight to illness. I wish I put him down with clove oil but I physically couldn't do it. I tried, but I couldn't...I'm an animal loving 14 year old girl, I fought for this little guy...a tragedy happened a couple days earlier that I blamed myself for and I couldn't kill Scuba too...I regret not using clove, but I can't change the past...
I held Scuba in my hand, no filter in his tank and his water lowered halfway. He just laid there, gasping, and I talked to him. Somehow the shock of it wouldn't allow me to cry even though I cried so much during his sickness. I told him how much I loved him and I was sorry and I'd be brave for him and help other fish for him and I loved him, I loved him, I loved him...he was my boy and I was thankful to him and I probably told him a hundred other things in that hour. He went from my hand to the bottom of the tank to his leaf hammock in the little he could do.
He was in some sort of spasm I think, twitching slightly and I'd keep checking but oh, he was still breathing. I kept holding him and I set him on his leaf hammock for a moment and I'm pretty sure that's where he died. The next day I netted him from his tank, that tank I bought specially from him, into a paper bag that he'd be buried in...I wanted to think of him with full finnage and happy and eating...but I looked into his eyes for a while with him in the bag, lifeless. I didn't want to see my boy for the last time, but I had to. Somehow I wanted to see him like this, see him at peace. He didn't have to fight any longer.
I miss Scuba. My first fish. My good boy. I wanted him to be the miracle story you'd see on the news. The underdog story you'd share with your friends. The love story that you could feel in your heart and never let go of. I was certain Scuba would get better but he didn't and I'm sorry I didn't save him. He'd still be here if he didn't get sick. He'd of spent his first Christmas with us and spent his first gotcha day with us...he'd be my first fish...I'd still have my first fish, that fish I wanted so bad, that fish I wrote an essay on to convince my parents to let me get one. He'd be the spoiled good boy I loved as much as a dog.
But he was only here a little more than 6 months. He wasn't the recovery story I wanted, but he was my boy and I loved him in his lethargy, in his faded blue body with his stringy white and red fins...in his sickness I had plenty of time to grieve him already so a week later I brought home a female Veiltail, a pink and purple and red girl, not to replace but help me heal so I didn't have to see that empty tank a minute longer...she's helped and I love her but she's not Scuba. I don't have that same attachment to Azzie. I don't think of her and feel my heart swell with joy and I don't have long conversations with her...I love her and spoil her but she doesn't have that Scoobs sass. She doesn't have a theme song. She doesn't watch to see if I'm awake for feedings.
Scuba wasn't meant to live his whole lifespan but he lived his whole life and lived just like that, fighting and fighting...and teaching me to care for an injured animal and have that sort of sacrifice in my life...when I think of Scuba, I don't think of the panic and sadness and worry I'd feel or the hundreds of dollars I spent on his recovery that never came...or the hours spent on salt baths and tank treatments and water changes...instead, I look out my window, where he'd buried so lovingly in the front yard by bushes that will bloom with color in the spring...where's he's buried with a painted piece of bark reading "SCUBA ELLIS" marking his grave...where's he buried with that heart hide he confided so much in beside his gravestone...and with tears in my eyes, I smile.
Scuba first got little rips at the end of the fins. I was told by fishkeepers I messaged on Instagram that I worriedly would share every detail with it was normal for a heavy finned boy like Scuba to have slightly torn fins. Later those tears turned to pinholes and I did many water changes but that didn't help Scuba. Slowly, as much info as I collected and things I did, the pinholes turned to full-blown rips and tears in a matter of days. Scuba started losing that beautiful blue color.
It started in May. The things I tried included...tons of water changes, a new heater (I heard the old one's brand could leech chemicals), Jungle Fungus Clear, Kanaplex, Stress Coat, Stress Guard, Paraguard, Indian Almond Leaves, AQ salt baths, testing the water, lowering the water level, trying an all frozen diet (which I stuck with because I was a worry wart and I thougth Scoobs was bloating on pellets although he wasn't). I medicated with great caution of course, but Scuba eventually got to where all that color was gone and his fins looked horrible. Walking by his tank or even turning on the light in my room (I kept my room dark for months due to this) gave him very clear stress stripes.
Unfortunately I think I underfed Scuba, sometimes only giving him a bloodworm a day, because of my paranoia. However, I loved him and he was strong...but nothing worked. Okay, a series of 10 AQ salt baths took away a little lethargy...he went through phases, sometimes his spot to be sluggish all day would be by the filter. Eventually he would lay in his wooden heart hide and I feel bad but I'd wake him up often just to check on him. He'd lay completely flat sometimes. I'd have trouble sleeping because at night I'd keep checking on him and in the morning I'd always fear him dead but there'd he'd be, keep breathing...this made summer camp especially hard, being away from him all day.
I tried everything...oh, I tried everything...that Siamese Fighter was definitely one of his species, because he fought that illness so well. In July we went on an 8 day vacation and Scuba survived that with a bloodworm a day and no water changes. Every fish person I talked to told me he'd die while I was gone and once I was notified by the pet sitter he wouldn't eat but I think he didn't see it because I hear he did minutes later.
In September, one day I knew it was coming. He swam in a few circles but then he would lay completely flat with no control of swimming at all. And that boy...who lived for food...wouldn't eat. I lost my sanity trying to make that fish better and looking in his little eyes and seeing him gasp was heartbreaking...I tried one more AQ salt bath that day but something told me this wouldn't be good...
Nobody knows what Scuba had, you'd think it would be fin rot but nothing helped it and he lost all color and lots of his energy. Sometimes I think it was velvet, sometimes I think it's something completely unique to the Scoobs himself. His story is one I definitely find tragic but inspirational in a way. Oh, that good fish...
That night I knew it was his time...I wish Scuba didn't have to lose his fight to illness. I wish I put him down with clove oil but I physically couldn't do it. I tried, but I couldn't...I'm an animal loving 14 year old girl, I fought for this little guy...a tragedy happened a couple days earlier that I blamed myself for and I couldn't kill Scuba too...I regret not using clove, but I can't change the past...
I held Scuba in my hand, no filter in his tank and his water lowered halfway. He just laid there, gasping, and I talked to him. Somehow the shock of it wouldn't allow me to cry even though I cried so much during his sickness. I told him how much I loved him and I was sorry and I'd be brave for him and help other fish for him and I loved him, I loved him, I loved him...he was my boy and I was thankful to him and I probably told him a hundred other things in that hour. He went from my hand to the bottom of the tank to his leaf hammock in the little he could do.
He was in some sort of spasm I think, twitching slightly and I'd keep checking but oh, he was still breathing. I kept holding him and I set him on his leaf hammock for a moment and I'm pretty sure that's where he died. The next day I netted him from his tank, that tank I bought specially from him, into a paper bag that he'd be buried in...I wanted to think of him with full finnage and happy and eating...but I looked into his eyes for a while with him in the bag, lifeless. I didn't want to see my boy for the last time, but I had to. Somehow I wanted to see him like this, see him at peace. He didn't have to fight any longer.
I miss Scuba. My first fish. My good boy. I wanted him to be the miracle story you'd see on the news. The underdog story you'd share with your friends. The love story that you could feel in your heart and never let go of. I was certain Scuba would get better but he didn't and I'm sorry I didn't save him. He'd still be here if he didn't get sick. He'd of spent his first Christmas with us and spent his first gotcha day with us...he'd be my first fish...I'd still have my first fish, that fish I wanted so bad, that fish I wrote an essay on to convince my parents to let me get one. He'd be the spoiled good boy I loved as much as a dog.
But he was only here a little more than 6 months. He wasn't the recovery story I wanted, but he was my boy and I loved him in his lethargy, in his faded blue body with his stringy white and red fins...in his sickness I had plenty of time to grieve him already so a week later I brought home a female Veiltail, a pink and purple and red girl, not to replace but help me heal so I didn't have to see that empty tank a minute longer...she's helped and I love her but she's not Scuba. I don't have that same attachment to Azzie. I don't think of her and feel my heart swell with joy and I don't have long conversations with her...I love her and spoil her but she doesn't have that Scoobs sass. She doesn't have a theme song. She doesn't watch to see if I'm awake for feedings.
Scuba wasn't meant to live his whole lifespan but he lived his whole life and lived just like that, fighting and fighting...and teaching me to care for an injured animal and have that sort of sacrifice in my life...when I think of Scuba, I don't think of the panic and sadness and worry I'd feel or the hundreds of dollars I spent on his recovery that never came...or the hours spent on salt baths and tank treatments and water changes...instead, I look out my window, where he'd buried so lovingly in the front yard by bushes that will bloom with color in the spring...where's he's buried with a painted piece of bark reading "SCUBA ELLIS" marking his grave...where's he buried with that heart hide he confided so much in beside his gravestone...and with tears in my eyes, I smile.