This is Esmeralda. She is a half-moon betta female, or so said her dinky cup.
She was adopted a little over a week ago. We picked her because she was an interesting blue-green color, which she is actually not, as you can see. Also, she was lively. I know the male bettas are much more impressive, but I’ve never been drawn to the animals who get the most attention, which is why I avoid kittens at the animal shelter and children everywhere.
Right now she is in a five gallon tank with some of the fake plants that were readily available at our Petsmart. We will be ordering some softer silk plants soon because I fear for her delicate fins as she tries to bully her way through the decorations. I’d love to have a blackwater tank with live plants and all that, but I’m already so busy, I can’t imagine having more things to look after right now. Also, space is pretty limited, and a five gallon blackwater tank would be like a six square foot walk-in closet. Yeah, you can walk in there, but that’s not how it’s supposed to be.
Along with Esme, we still have Cornwall, and Zelda has been here 100% of the time now, so there’s another cat to care for, albeit an outdoor one. There’s also Nickajack, but Jack doesn’t live in an igloo in the yard, so it doesn’t feel like he’s entirely our responsibility. Aaaaand, there are the goats. Holy moly. If you want an easy livestock pet to care for, get a cow or something. Goats are a pain in the butt. They’re pretty fun, and I love seeing them romp around in the field, but they’re not as low maintenance as you may think. They get into everything, and there’s always something to do for them. This weekend I have to clean their shed again, which takes three full-truck-load trips to the rubbish pile, and they need their hooves trimmed. I used to hold them on my lap while Brian did the clipping, but now they’re too big to hold, and we are without a stanchion, so it’s fun like splinters under your fingernails.
I sometimes miss the days of having nothing much to do. Days when I could read for more than four minutes at a time, days when I could watch an entire episode of Heartland without having to get up to do something, days of being able to sit back and not have an animal jump on my lap. But those were days without seeing Tesco, Silas, and Barnaby run full-out across the field toward a pile of new hay, without having Cornwall chirrup and rub against my ankles because he’s missed me, without finding Zelda in the bathroom sink, curled up and sleeping where she’s warm and safe. So, even though I miss being lazy, I wouldn’t trade any of the responsibilities.
Fingers To The Bone
by Brown Bird