By Rose Simpson
It was the crack felt down Smyth Road.
At 7 a.m. today, my neighbour heard a crack and then everything went dark. He looked out his window and saw a large tree split in two which had severed the hydro wires. It took about 50 Hydro workers eight hours to repair the damage, and me a few minutes to clean up the carnage in Scott’s beloved fish tank. I can’t find Olga Two, the red tailed shark, our favorite, and that makes me sad because Olga was elegant and beautiful.
Scott raised Olga from a guppy fish (I don’t know if guppy is the right word, as I am not a fish person) and she was nearly four inches long, sleek and black with a lustrious red tail — hence the name. She wasn’t a perfect fish. She did kill other fish. She didn’t much care for orange fish, but she was more kindly than the Ebb, the Angel Fish of Death, who somehow survived the power outage.
Olga Two had replaced our beloved Olga One, the red tailed shark given to us by Nick’s former girlfriend, the exotic Olga who had moved from Germany to live with our eldest son. Sadly, Olga and Nick broke up a couple of years ago, but before she returned to Germany, she gave us that beautiful fish, which unfortunately was beheaded by an erratic tank filter.
Earlier today, I took the pugs and Hannah outside, to wait out the power outage. I didn’t want to watch the slow death of our little community of fishes who were dying of hypothermia. Didn’t want to be the one wielding the little net. But alas, when I saw the dead fish at the top of the tank, I knew I needed to step up, to save the ones left behind from the trauma of sleeping, well, with the dead fishes.
I had to come inside to face the death tank. I was getting a little spooked out, in the back garden, in the heat, thinking whether there might be dead Jews getting a little ripe at the funeral chapel next door. Here’s hoping they have a generator.
The front yard isn’t a prize place to sunbathe either, given all the orange helmets digging up our street, replacing the sewer lines and sidewalks. Between the Hydro guys and the city guys, I feel like I’ve fallen into some kind of Sim City game. Sheesh.
Can’t wait for Scott to get home. If anymore fish die, I’m going to be an absolute wreck. As it is, I can’t be in the same room with the fish tank, for fear I’ll see another little sprout bobbing in the water.
Note to self: Feeling the necessity of martini, four olives, up. Not having salmon tonight.