The Fish

We have a small fish pond built into the patio in the backyard, with four small koi therein, mandatorily adopted when we bought the house. I have named them:

  • Spot is orange with a single white spot on his back.
  • Whitey is solid white.
  • Big Man is solid orange and bigger than Shrimp.
  • Shrimp is solid orange and smaller than Big Man.

I have determined using all available evidence (specifically, my imagination) that they’re all boys.  Give me a break: I’m already outnumbered five to one.

As you may know, it’s cold in Memphis at the moment and getting colder.  Tonight’s forecast low: 11°.  I have therefore decided to freak out about the health and safety of these small slimy wriggly fellas, all of whom have zero interest in me other than Getting Away and Hiding.

The pump is frozen, and there’s a 1″ thick sheet of ice on the top, but the water underneath is fine.  I know this because I just did some reading and decided to pour a few saucepans of hot water onto the side of the pond to melt the ice, allowing a bit of oxygen in and toxic stuff out.

No sign of fish, but hopefully they’re smarter about what they need than I am. I’ll be out there this weekend when (if) it’s above freezing to see what the deal is.  I’ll pretend that under the rock structure in the middle, they have a little fish dude party pad with a bar, leather armchairs, and a big TV.  And a heater.

Meanwhile, there will be lots of snugglepuppy indoors to keep all the warm-blooded warm.