because i seem to have contracted florence nightingale syndrome, i've been caring for a sickly betta fish that i named bob. my boss bought the fish for her kids, wanting to expose them to pets and responsibility, but her kids grew bored with him and he eventually sat in his tiny bowl, surrounded by his own excrement and food, neglected and depressed. (i just re-read that and laughed at how exaggerated i can be.)
the point is, he wasn't cared for. so she brought him to the office and i took one look at him and decided i was going to nurse him back to health. i bought him a new tank, a water filter, some fake plants, gravel, a heater, and now some medicine to correct what seems to be "fin rot," brought on by the dirty water conditions he lived in before he became my project.
i didn't realize that i could care so much about a fish so quickly. actually, i didn't think they really had personalities, but i was so wrong. every time i walk by bob's tank, he flips around wildly and looks at me. when i crouch down to affectionately touch the glass with my finger, he swims right up against it. he's cute, and i love him. here's a picture of him:
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