by Delores Thornton

Delores Thornton
Voted "Literary Queen 2003" by C&B Books
author of "Anybody Seen Junebug"
Voted "Book of the Year 2003" by Disilgold.com
Founder of Marguerite Press "Bringing to the forefront those issues of concern in The Literary World, since 1996!"
www.margueritepress.com

A Goldfish Named Gus

(Excerpted from my latest work of inspirational non-fiction, "Divine Appointment: A Caregiver's Guide")

It is a pleasure to remember a simpler taste of life, like back when the five and dime stores gave youngsters baby chicks during the Easter holidays. Most of the time the tiny birds wouldn't live more than a few weeks, but the furry, fuzzy birds brought tons of joy to area children. In the mid-1950s, the Board of Health, outlawed the chicks in the city limits. During that same period the Indiana State Fair was offering goldfish as a prize for the ring toss. Usually the little helpless creatures died before they reached their prospective homes. The tiny baggies were either dropped and the water escaped, or they just died.

In 1988, my grandchildren won two goldfish from the fair. Their eyes were as wide as saucers when they showed me their winnings. They even named them, one name escapes me; but the other was Gus. The nameless fish was dead the next morning, but Gus lived for many more years.

Gus lived although the kids over-fed him often, ignoring my suggestion to place a few bread crumbs in the bowl so he wouldn't over eat. Gus lived although we sometimes took vacations and forgot to feed him at all. Gus even survived a move in sub-zero temperatures, when we moved from our old home, into an apartment, while awaiting the construction of our new home.

Gus gave our family plenty of hours of excitement as we sit around the bowl and watched him swish and splash throughout the day. He was really a family pet. What was so amazing about Gus was that he could survive outside of his fishbowl. I often wondered if he knew he was a goldfish! Once I came home and found him outside of his bowl, just laying on the top of the stove. Another time he was in the middle of the kitchen floor. Gus had more lives than a cat, it seemed; and it always surprised us to see him out of his natural environment. We had gotten to the point that when we entered the house we'd look down to keep from stepping on him, and look down in the eyes of the stove before turning it on. We treaded lightly until we got to Gus bowl and found him inside.

Gus died in 1995, and though we didn't know anything about the longevity of goldfish, my family and I were sure that Gus had probably set a record.