Yesterday I went into the kitchen around 9:30am to grab breakfast.
Lucas was up, playing with Play-dough on the kitchen table. The rest of the family was upstairs getting ready for the day.
I walk into the kitchen and see the floor soaked with water, and I wonder who spilled and/or why someone would leave the floor like that.
Then I see the plastic fish tank on its side, the source of all the water.
Then I see Gin.
And then I see Gin's paw, batting at the non-flopping goldfish on the wet floor.
I scream "GINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN" then grab the fish with one hand and toss it in the plastic tank held by the other, then rush to the faucet and start filling it with water. I set it on the table and stare at it, hoping this will be like when Mario in SuperMario64 rushes up to the surface from snorkeling and regains all his power.
Don't let that pie chart get to the red zone!
As this worry occupies the back of my mind, I run over to Gin, who is wondering where his snack is, and smack him on the side as I yell "MUY MAL!!!!!!"
Pichon rushes in, and he is like "What is going on/who spilled?" I explain what happened and this launches Pichon into a vengeful fury against Gin. He slaps Gin and Gin runs out of the room and Pichon chases him downstairs into the laundry room where the cat sleeps and slams the door, locking Gin inside.
As you may know, Pichon hates this cat.
Lucas, in the mean time, is pushing Play-dough through the dough extractor, making Play-dough spaghetti. "What happened?" I explain what happened.
Now Pichon is furiously mopping up the water mess (not a lot, about a half gallon or liter of water, but pretty much everywhere, since it fell from the counter onto the floor, about a 3.5 foot drop) and he tells me to not worry about it and just get my breakfast.
I sit next to Lucas, who is now punching out dog bone-shaped pieces of Play-dough. "But what happened with Gin?" I am like "Lucas, I just told you."
Now the counter is all wet and we realize the plastic fish tank is cracked and slowly leaking out water. Pichon puts the fish in a wine decanter, claiming Gin can't tip it over nor reach inside.
This does seem pretty cat-proof, actually.
The fish is not floating on the top, but he sure isn't swimming around happily at this point. I mean, he just had a earthquake in the only 5x5x5inch world he has ever known as home. He then was deprived of his natural environment, water, while being smacked by a paw of a furry creature approximately 100 times his size.
That is TRAUMATIZING.
By this time, Cristina is in the kitchen asking what happened, and we explain and she shrugs it off, saying "It's a cat. That's a fish. Cats are genetically prone to attack/want fish." Meanwhile, Pichon is adding this to his long list of reasons why he hates having Gin around (other things on this list include "he smells," "he scratches our leather couch," "he jumps on the dinner table while we eat," etc).
I told Cristina how great it is that Gin just got his claws removed, because he was only merely batting at the fish where if this happened a week ago, he would've stabbed a claw right through the fish's eye and probably eaten him.
This morning I found Gin near where the fish tank used to be, but the new decanter-tank wasn't there.
Now the new tank is back where the old tank used to be, and Cristina found him with his head in the top, as far as it could go, watching the fish.
High quality artist's rendering.
The fish is now happily swimming in his new home. They do say fish have horrible memories. I can only imagine this fish having faint traumatic dreams of what happened to him yesterday.
I also want to know how long it will be before Gin becomes the decanter-vase version of this cat: