He's not dead yet!

I'm afraid that Salty Joe is on his last legs (as it were). We suspected he was an old timer, but lately he seems like he's heading toward the great rice paddy in the sky. (I think that's where he lived before he was snatched up and shipped off to whichever godforsaken pet supply store his previous owner found him in.) He doesn't swim or puff up or grump out in any way. He just lays on the rocks on the bottom of the tank, all tilty and listless. He can barely swim to the top to get his food and even when he makes it, he just eats a piece or two then floats back down to the rocks, all exhausted-like.

I've never really had a fish (that's not technically true. I had a fish for a few weeks that I had to leave with some friends while I was on tour and when I came home, Cleo was a goner. I'm not naming names or pointing fingers but Gunderman - watch the missus) but what I'm trying to say is that I always assumed that fish just died. One day they're swimming in circles, next minute, belly up. None of this slowly getting weaker, refusing food, bringing up painful memories stuff.

This development has rendered Matt and I officially ridiculous.

We've done research to see if he's sick, we've easily spent $50 on various fish medicines, we've put his coral reef in the tank, we've taken his coral reef out of the tank, we've coaxed, we've cooed, we've done everything we can think of to make this fish feel better. (Matt's currently in the bathroom lowering the water level in Joe's tank to make it easier for his to swim to the top.) All for a $3.00 fish.

While I am a notorious softy (I don't care how withered and pathetic my plants look, if they're still technically alive I find it neigh on impossible to throw them away), I defy you to watch something dying right in front of and not try to help. (Not that we're necessarily helping, mind you. Half the time we're probably terrifying the poor fella.)

I'll keep you abreast of the situation. Think good thoughts for Joe. He isn't a kindly fish, but he has spunk.