A humorous look at bodily ills and daily woes, and tips from someone who has suffered everything from arthritis to athlete's foot.
Thursday, 17 February 2011
A terrible tragedy has struck the pond. I have known and loved these fish for 14 years. They only began spawning last year when Mr Grumpy bought a filter kit and an air stone to clean and oxygenate the pond.
I went out and bought a PH testing kit two days ago and it proclaimed the water perfect, but most of the baby fish had floated to the top dead. This morning, this was what greeted us. The biggest, healthiest of our piscine friends had simply keeled over.
In despair, I hit the search engine and discovered that the problem had been caused by the sudden changes in temperature from deep freeze to warm-up, to cold, and back to warm. This stresses fish and lowers their immune systems so they are prone to disease. When Mr G examined the corpses, he found traces of fungal disease. He went to the pet store and got some anti-fungal treatment which has turned the pond water bright green. (Wonder what the frogs make of it? Can they catch fungal diseases too?)
If none survive, Mr G says that's it, no more fish. But in that case, he'll either be left with a pond full of stagnant water which will turn into a mosquito breeding factory, or, if he drains it, a five foot deep hole. Just deep enough to bury me in if I keel over!
Now, why did I say that? Earlier today, I watched a funeral procession passing down our road, led by a beautifully polished black coach and horses (also polished to a glossy sheen). That's the sort of send-off I'd like, thought I. Then I remembered the big, fat, gypsy funeral I passed on the bus last week - the road lined with battered pick-ups and lorries all festooned with flowers. What kind of send-off are the poor fish getting? According to Mr G, he's slinging them down the bottom of the garden for the fox. Sad. Very, very sad.