Throwback: Losing a Pet

It's hard to believe it, but in just one week, I'll be graduating high school and begin a new journey at Cornell University in the Fall. To celebrate my time in high school, for the next week, I will be posting "throwback" posts; these posts are pieces of writing that I have written throughout my 4 years in high school. This first piece is a short story that I wrote for my English I class; each consecutive post will be from each year of high school. 
The breeze caressed my face as my family and I walked through a carnival that was buzzing with life and excitement. I shivered in my jacket, wondering why the day had to be so chilly. It was a Mr. Freeze-worthy temperature of 60°F. I was living in California, a state notoriously known for its semi-tropical weather. So when the climate dropped below the 70’s, Californians knew to pull bring out their jackets. It seems odd that now, living in Chicago, I gladly welcome the 60° weather, taking the steady rise from winter temperatures as a sign that summer may actually be approaching (for once).

I passed through all of the booths at the festival until I stumbled across a game where the winner was awarded a jewel more colorful than rubies or emeralds: a vibrant orange goldfish. Hundreds of them were bagged in plastic bags which were tied with rubber bands at the top, giving the prizes the appearance of see-through lollipops waiting to be unwrapped. For a moment I thought that the fish’s eyes met mine, and immediately I felt a connection. I knew I had to win the game and take the goldfish home.

I played the carnival game with the image of the goldfish in my mind, telling myself that I must make it my pet. Several dollars later, I won! I scooped up the orange sea-dweller, envisioning the luxurious tank it would live in back at home. My younger brother also won a fish, and both of us began listing off the various ways we would prepare the tank for our new pets. Our fish would have its own castle with brightly colored rocks and fresh water that flowed from an unpolluted stream. Alas, our excitement had to be contained for one more day as the pet shops were closed  and we had to go home for it was getting late. My brother and I brainstormed names, however, arguing when we both chose the same one or insulting each other when we came up with funny alternatives. When we got home, my dad set up two plastic fishbowls as a temporary abode for the two fish.

Before I went to bed, my dad told us to choose a name for our newly acquired pets. I thought long and hard about such a process. At that point in my life, I had been obsessed with a Pixar animation movie entitled A Bug’s Life. One antagonist in particular that stood out to me was the ferocious grasshopper known as Hopper (voiced by Kevin Spacey). There was nothing really to like about the character. Hopper was a rude, violent, and avaricious fellow, but something about him felt as though his alias would properly suit the feisty fish. Hopper was the leader of the evil grasshoppers and whenever he was around or looked at a character dead in the eye, one knew to focus and give him one’s full attention. Hopper engendered fear, possessed a commanding presence, and  now became an inspiration for my fish’s name. I briefly contemplated the fact that Hopper died a gruesome death in the film, and I certainly would not want the same fate to befall my fish, but I pushed such a notion out of my head. I dismissed it as a random thought. Remembering how when I first saw my fish, it looked at me and caught my eye, forcing me to focus on it with all of my attention, Hopper was the perfect name! I said good night to the newly christened Hopper and fell to bed. (My brother, by the way, named his fish Flik after the protagonist of the film).

The next morning I woke up and raced out of my bed, eager to see how Hopper survived the night. He didn’t. I peered into my tank and to my horror, I did not see my fish in there. I looked around and was dismayed to see Hopper sprawled out on the table, dead. He was next to his tank, and there was a pool of water that had soaked the doily on top of which the bowl was laid. His gills were no longer moving and the captivating look he gave me when I first saw him was gone.

My father later told me that Hopper had “hopped” from his tank; curious Hopper had jumped from his tank and landed on the table counter. With no water to sustain his life functions, Hopper suffocated to death. It had happened without warning. I was shocked and scared. I started to cry. I was five years old, and I was heartbroken that it had not even been a full day with Hopper. My comrade had been taken away from me. Why did he jump out of the water?. I imagined him swimming happily in his tank, moments before his death, not even considering the consequences of what he would do. He would leave this world without knowing the wonders I would have had in store for him: how after school I would have come home every day and the first thing I would do would feed him, or the ornaments with which I would decorate his tank. He ignored the fact that we could have made so many memories together. He leaped from the tank, away from his new life and away from me. My brother’s fish lived on for many months but ironically, Hopper my first pet, met a gruesome and tragic fate.

I jump forward in my story and find myself in high school, much older than the many years ago where I was in management of fish. I find myself in the management of a new breed of pets: crested geckos. These crested geckos are kept securely within a cubicle tank and rarely have they ever escaped. Though geckos are much more interactive and entertaining, they jump around and move a lot before they get used to the person who is holding them. I feel paranoid when holding some of them, not wanting them to escape their cages. The geckos have gotten used to my presence and smell now. Whenever I pick them up, they remain docile and quiet in my palms. But the jittery ones (named Pepperoni and Banana) jump and whenever they do, I cannot help but remember when Hopper leaped from his tank as well. I reach out to grab the gecko in midflight, knowing that I would not be able to lose a pet the same way again.