goldfish goodness

Most of us, having had a goldfish, can remember when we got our first one. Most likely rushing through the pet store as a young child all excited about this new pet; picking the perfect fish from a multitude in the tank, then the perfect bowl, some pebbles, rocks or marbles for the bottom and perhaps, even a bubbler attachment. The store clerk then attempts to sweep up the goldfish we have chosen with a net. If lucky, they get them first try, or not and our anxiety about getting the right fish grows with every swipe of the net. Did we get him? Yes, we finally got it! Its bagged and tied up with a rubber band. We marvel at the newly caught creature, gently coddle and carry it through check out and the drive home to ensure they don’t get too sloshed around. At home, we get the bowl all set up and if the fish is lucky enough to have conscientious new owners, they float in the baggie atop of the bowl to allow acclimation. If not, then the goldfish just gets dumped into the bowl without warning, gasping with shock, lisping to the side and hoping to hell they can just hang on until their body acclimates without too much internal shock and exhaustion.

But what really goes through their mind when they are scooped out, shoved into the baggie, hauled around like a new toy with dizzying visual disturbances, taken on a drive home, dumped in a new cramped space and stared at with distorted faces and wide eyes, flooded with food that they could really care less about? Who knows, but what they soon learn is, oops, can’t go there.. oops can’t go there either… The glass doesn’t allow it. There are boundaries – clear boundaries in this new home. Its smaller than where I came from, less crowded, but I still cannot get out. I can see the other side but it continues to restrict me from moving forward, exploring new things. Over a course of time, the goldfish understands that those in charge will provide what they need. The fish accepts their boundaries, living within its confines, often bored but tries to do the best self-entertainment based on what’s been provided while waiting until some other life altering event occurs.

At some point the owners either graduate them to a larger bowl, add more play toys or playmates, or, maybe the fish dies. Worse yet, the owners feel that the fish has become too problematic and therefore is easily dispensable. The bowl needs cleaned frequently, it’s a pain when leaving for vacation, oh and these cute little goldfish can grow to the size of their bowl! So, the goldfish, seemingly by no fault of their own, becomes a bourbon who either dies from neglect or, is disposed of – down the toilet. We humans view these goldfish toilet burials as humane, it’s a fish and the toilet consist of water, right? Perhaps they can live there if they are alive right? The toilet is flushed, it’s all ok now, they are in direct route to goldfish heaven. Not like real fish who are hit over the head with a stick, gutted, cleaned and eaten… No, not the goldfish, these cute little things get proper burials, we would never conceive of eating goldfish.

I don’t know anybody who would actually eat a real goldfish… Yet truth be told, goldfish do get eaten, a lot of goldfish, in the form of crackers. We just nibble away at these cute harmless goldfish shaped crackers, popping them in our mouth one after the other. Created by a swiss biscuit manufacture in 1958 these goldfish in the bag were brought back to the states in 1962 by Pepperridge Farms (a division of the Campbell Soup Company) as a soup cracker. On the package it actually says they are “soup crackers”, but like me, I bet many of us have never stopped to actually read or see that, but these goldfish are actually made to swim in our soups if we let them. Pepperidge Farms states that 40% of these goldfish crackers contain imprints of an eye and a smile, so let’s feel good about eating as many of these as we want, because in the end, these goldfish also, get a kind of proper goldfish burial too, in the toilet.