Butter got fish the other night.
He loves them.
We went to a local fish store about a week and a half ago to look around. Tuesday, I mentioned to Husband that Butter still had a gift card from his birthday to use and reminded Husband of the look of delight on Butter’s face while we were at the fish store.
We came home with a 10 gallon tank and two goldfish who, the lady promised us, are going to grow to gigantic proportions. Luckily she also told us we can dump them in the in-laws’ koi pond when they get too big to house in the tank. Apparently Husband moved them to their very own home [meaning their permanent location in the house] this afternoon. Now we need to get a step stool for Butter to stand on to stare at his fish.
Did I mention he had a conversation with them the night we brought them home? “Hi fish. I’m Butter. Okay.” The next morning, he had yet another conversation with them. “Hi fish. I’m Butter. You’re mine. Okay.”
Clearly the fish needed to be told who’s boss, and on more than one occasion.
When asked if he’d share the fish with his brother, I got a rousing, “Nope!”