�What should we name our fish?� she asked me.

�Our fish? No mom, not our fish. I�m going back to school in a couple of weeks. They�re your fish. Your responsibility.� I already sensed that this was going to be a disaster. I had no empirical reason for believing this, just one of those gut feelings.

�Fine, I don�t trust you around my fish anyway, but help me name them.� She pursed her lips with thought, and then enthusiastically added: �We should think of a theme�that way, when I get them fish brothers, they can all have similar names!� I sat and thought for a minute, and started presenting various naming ideas.

�What about picking from the seven deadly sins?� I asked.

�Too gloomy.�

�How about Greek mythological heroes?�

�Too esoteric.�

�What about something really absurd, like the kind of names that overly affectionate pet-people give their animals�like Mr. Purry, or Snugglepuff?�

�mmmmmmm. Perhaps,� she mumbled pensively.

I continued to list out numerous suggestions that were subsequently rejected. As we approached home, my mother asked me in desperation to repeat a few of my suggestions. In the end, she wasn�t able to decide between Greek heroes and absurd names, so she opted for both. Thus, Ajax and Agamemnon Swimmypants were named. They were welcomed into our home with a ceremonious release from their plastic bag. Mom lifted each of our cats up to the tank in turn to welcome Ajax and Mr. Swimmypants into our family; the younger of the two cats received them with an aggressive paw slap onto the aquarium glass.

I paid little attention to the fish, and went about my daily business in the weeks remaining before I moved back into my dorm. One afternoon, I came home to a voicemail from my mother, and called her at her friend�s house. Pleasantries were exchanged, and then she asked me, �Have you seen the new fish?�

I strolled over to the tank and replied, �Yeah, he�s nice.�

�He?� She asked.

�Yes, he. why?� I answered impatiently.

�Not�� she paused and swallowed ��fish, plural?�

There was a long pause, and then a sigh before she explained. Apparently she had purchased two fish to join the original two. For those readers with poor computation skills, or lacking a majority of their fingers, that meant that there should have been four fish total, not three. Ajax was nowhere to be found. We discovered later that Ajax was actually sucked up by the filter. Yes, a fish tank filter that can suck up small fish: what a brilliant design. Unfortunately, we did not discover the origins of Ajax�s death before Ajax II also fell prey to the filter.

The unnamed brother of Ajax II and Agamemnon Swimmypants lived together in harmony for a week and a half before stricken with a fish disease called Ich. Symptoms of Ich include white spots, decreased appetite, and death. It wasn�t long before all of the occupants of the tank had passed on.

I moved back to college, leaving the empty tank behind me, and believing that my mother had given up on fish husbandry. I clearly didn�t give sufficient credit to her tenacity, as she called me several days later to tell me that she had purchased three new fish. This new generation of fish would be named after her maternal uncles. Her mother had had seven brothers, so this seemed like a safe theme to use even with the most ephemeral of creatures. The next time I was at home, I was properly introduced to Warren, Johnny, and Weeb.

�Weeb?� I asked, laughing at the absurdity of the name. �Which of your uncles went by �Weeb�?�

Mom chuckled. �Weeb wasn�t really my uncle; he was a friend of Uncle Johnny who we called �uncle.��

�What the hell kind of name is Weeb?�

My mother reflected for a minute, then answered, �I don�t really remember Weeb all that well. Once your uncle Joe and I were riding in a car with Johnny and Weeb, and I think Weeb peed himself.�

�Your uncle was friends with a grown man who pissed himself in a car?!� I couldn�t hide my incredulity, �and you called him uncle?!�

�Yeah, I guess that is really bizarre.�

As you may have guessed, these fish didn�t last much longer than their predecessors. I received a gloomy voicemail informing me that Warren, the bacteria sucking member of the trio, was found dead under the eaves of his favorite ornamental rock. Johnny and Weeb passed not long after. My mother maintained that their death was probably due to bereavement over the death of Warren. While their average lifespan wasn�t exceeding a week, my mother seemed to be getting attached to these fish; at least attached enough to make up all kinds of stories about their thoughts, hopes, dreams, and fishflake preference.

Before I made another trip home, Ed, Art, and Buck had all come and gone. Still, even after ten fish, her quest to successfully raise a fish didn�t flag. She called me excitedly one evening to tell me of her new hope in fish parenthood.

�I went to PetSmart again today��

�Oh, mom. No, tell me you didn�t,� The quick succession of fish was becoming confusing and depressing, and I couldn�t bring myself to endorse the adoption of any additional fish.

�No, no, it�ll be different this time. See, I went in there to ask for a refund for Art, and--�

I interrupted her, �A refund? Will they do that?�

�Yeah, it�s great. They come with a three week guarantee. Unfortunately, they couldn�t give me my money back. They claim that you need both the receipt and the bodies. Next time I�ll know better��

I shuddered with the thought of my mother returning dead fish to the store. I knew she would do it too. I would not be surprised in the slightest to see her carrying a bag of fish carcasses�not only for the roughly $2.99 per fish she would get back, but just for the principle of the thing.

�Anyway, they gave me two of a new breed that are supposed to be really hearty.�

�Aren�t you out of uncles yet?� I asked.

�Ha ha,� she replied sardonically, �I�ll have you know that I have two more uncles. These two are named Dick and Jack, and they�re destined to live a long, long time.� She paused for a moment before adding, �The real Dick and Jack lived into their eighties,� as if to validate her argument.

A couple of weeks later, I had the occasion of being at home, and was shocked to see two healthy looking fish in the tank when I entered the house. �Congratulations, mom,� I cried, �They�re still alive!� She smiled, but then hesitated. I could tell she was debating whether or not to tell me something. �What is it?� I asked her.

�Well, yes. Alive, but they fight an awful lot.� It was true; they fish were nipping at each other as we spoke. She tentatively continued, �so there�s a lot of fighting, and frankly, Jack has seen better days. In fact, we call him �One-Eyed Jack� now.� It took me a few seconds before what she said registered in my brain. Sure enough, when I peered into the tank, I could see that one of the orange fish had a pus-colored hole where his eye once was.

�Oh that�s disgusting.� The look on my mother�s face revealed clear defeat.

After One Eyed Jack and Dick shuffled off this mortal coil; my mother capitulated and took a break from fish. The aquarium is currently sitting empty in our kitchen; though she mentioned not long ago the prospect of getting some of those little black fish like she had when she was a kid.