Since purchasing fish as pets rather than simply Tuesday night dinner, I’ve learned as much about Koi owners as Koi fish. Most importantly, that there are two types of fish owners: Those who tell you they have fish. And those who tell you they raise Koromo Koi, recite every classification of carp and casually mention the size & weight of the latest Koi show winner. In the world of the obsessive Koi owner, there are rules and there are secondary rules. There are a lot of rules. In the world from which I hail, fish are what swim toward the squiggling bait at the end of my grandfather’s stick-pole. So, begins my Koi Tale.
I have a combination of goldfish and Koi, none of which do I know the classification. Nonetheless, all were doing swimmingly well until one day, after changing their water, my husband Paul and I noticed two of the goldfish swimming lethargically. The next day, one of those goldfish was belly-up and the other looked to be heading in the same direction. After some quick online research, I quarantined the sick little goldfish, put Paul in the car and headed out to the pet store with the intent of purchasing anything the salesman might tell me I needed, thus the reason I knew my husband was eager to accompany me.
Coincidentally, our little tourist town also happens to boast the area’s only Koi specialty store, owned by a Japanese family and offering koi pond plants, endless advice and beautiful ponds full of large imported koi that could make the most stressed person feel like a Yogi. Since my Koi hobby, I’ve begun going there regularly, often to simply sit and watch the fish.
While on the drive to the pet store, my husband asked why I didn’t stop at this local Koi shop instead. After all, I’ve bought all my food and water plants from them. I tried to explain my theory regarding the two kinds of Koi owners. “The guys who work at the Koi shop here are definitely the type A,” I said speaking quickly, because we were moving 45 MPH and the shop was coming up fast.
“You mean the Type 2?” he asked.
“What?” Driving and talking at the same time had just become harder and I saw the shop up ahead.
“It will save us a lot of time,” he persisted, “and they'll know more than the people at some chain pet store”.
I pulled into the Koi Shop parking lot. Dadblast it—Sunday, and they were still open.
“Alright,” I agreed as we got out of the car, “but watch what you say.”
“Can I help you?” asked the friendly Japanese-American owner.
“We’ve got sick fish” said Paul casually.
“Well one of them, a goldfish” I piped in, figuring that goldfish aren't sacred to the Koi crowd.
“What kind of filter do you have?” I saw this going downhill faster than my goldfish but couldn't get a lie out of my mouth fast enough.
“We don’t have a filter,” says hubby.
“You don’t have a filter?” repeated the store owner. It was not the kind of question that requires an answer.
“No.”
Paul was oblivious to the man’s distress but I saw the man’s eyebrows burrow and I was sure I began to detect something different in his voice; what was it?
“You really need a filter” he persisted. “How many gallons is your pond?”
“Well it’s not a pond. It’s a fountain and they don’t measure them in gallons but probably about forty," said hubby.
“Forty? You know, one full grown Koi needs at least 100 gallons. How many fish do you have?” Aaah—now I recognized that sound in his voice; it was disdain.
“Nine. Well, eight. One’s dead now,” answered my hubby in his laid-back and usually charming manner. I began looking for a giant lily pad to crawl under. I don’t remember the next few minutes of conversation. I drifted away to a more peaceful place. I watched Koi swimming to the surfaces of their large and filtered ponds. I heard the man ask if our pond was at least three feet deep.
“No, it’s probably twelve inches” answers hubby.
“Fifteen,” I corrected him, knowing it just didn’t matter anymore.
“You know, if the fish can’t go deep, they can get eaten by heron or cats. Do you have any predators?”
“Well, we had a squirrel but she poisoned it,” says hubby doing the head-nod point in my direction, “so, no.”
I think we were there 20 minutes but it seemed closer to some number of hours.
Yesterday, I told my husband that we needed fresh pond plants in our fountain-pond and that I was unable to find them anywhere other than the Koi Specialty Shop.
“Bummer,” said he, “I think you burned bridges there.”
I have a combination of goldfish and Koi, none of which do I know the classification. Nonetheless, all were doing swimmingly well until one day, after changing their water, my husband Paul and I noticed two of the goldfish swimming lethargically. The next day, one of those goldfish was belly-up and the other looked to be heading in the same direction. After some quick online research, I quarantined the sick little goldfish, put Paul in the car and headed out to the pet store with the intent of purchasing anything the salesman might tell me I needed, thus the reason I knew my husband was eager to accompany me.
Coincidentally, our little tourist town also happens to boast the area’s only Koi specialty store, owned by a Japanese family and offering koi pond plants, endless advice and beautiful ponds full of large imported koi that could make the most stressed person feel like a Yogi. Since my Koi hobby, I’ve begun going there regularly, often to simply sit and watch the fish.
While on the drive to the pet store, my husband asked why I didn’t stop at this local Koi shop instead. After all, I’ve bought all my food and water plants from them. I tried to explain my theory regarding the two kinds of Koi owners. “The guys who work at the Koi shop here are definitely the type A,” I said speaking quickly, because we were moving 45 MPH and the shop was coming up fast.
“You mean the Type 2?” he asked.
“What?” Driving and talking at the same time had just become harder and I saw the shop up ahead.
“It will save us a lot of time,” he persisted, “and they'll know more than the people at some chain pet store”.
I pulled into the Koi Shop parking lot. Dadblast it—Sunday, and they were still open.
“Alright,” I agreed as we got out of the car, “but watch what you say.”
“Can I help you?” asked the friendly Japanese-American owner.
“We’ve got sick fish” said Paul casually.
“Well one of them, a goldfish” I piped in, figuring that goldfish aren't sacred to the Koi crowd.
“What kind of filter do you have?” I saw this going downhill faster than my goldfish but couldn't get a lie out of my mouth fast enough.
“We don’t have a filter,” says hubby.
“You don’t have a filter?” repeated the store owner. It was not the kind of question that requires an answer.
“No.”
Paul was oblivious to the man’s distress but I saw the man’s eyebrows burrow and I was sure I began to detect something different in his voice; what was it?
“You really need a filter” he persisted. “How many gallons is your pond?”
“Well it’s not a pond. It’s a fountain and they don’t measure them in gallons but probably about forty," said hubby.
“Forty? You know, one full grown Koi needs at least 100 gallons. How many fish do you have?” Aaah—now I recognized that sound in his voice; it was disdain.
“Nine. Well, eight. One’s dead now,” answered my hubby in his laid-back and usually charming manner. I began looking for a giant lily pad to crawl under. I don’t remember the next few minutes of conversation. I drifted away to a more peaceful place. I watched Koi swimming to the surfaces of their large and filtered ponds. I heard the man ask if our pond was at least three feet deep.
“No, it’s probably twelve inches” answers hubby.
“Fifteen,” I corrected him, knowing it just didn’t matter anymore.
“You know, if the fish can’t go deep, they can get eaten by heron or cats. Do you have any predators?”
“Well, we had a squirrel but she poisoned it,” says hubby doing the head-nod point in my direction, “so, no.”
I think we were there 20 minutes but it seemed closer to some number of hours.
Yesterday, I told my husband that we needed fresh pond plants in our fountain-pond and that I was unable to find them anywhere other than the Koi Specialty Shop.
“Bummer,” said he, “I think you burned bridges there.”
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