Most of you know that I’m not an animal person.

At all.

I wouldn’t hurt an animal or anything…but I don’t go out of my way to be nice to them, either. I’m not much for furry things. Or things with tails. Tails freak me out. Don’t ask me why.

Give me a beautiful spider any old day and I’ll repay you with a smile.

But something that you might not know about me is that I really hate fish. I mean, actively hate them.

My parents live on a lake. I spent every summer as a child on that lake. And once I got to be a teenager, I lived on the lake, too. I know how to swim and everything and I actually * like * swimming.

But if a fish comes near my ankles…even just a minnow…I freak out and run out of the water.

This is really embarrassing. But I do have a point, I swear.

A few Christmases ago, Santa brought the girls two pet fish, Simon and Tellula.

They lived a remarkably long time before going on to fishy heaven.

We replaced them with Pink and Pinker.

And a disgusting sucker fish that I hated.

Eventually, they all died, too.

And we got Kevin and Winnie.

Winnie died pretty early on. But Kevin is a fighter. And he stills lives here with us today. He’s fond of smashing his face up against the tank whenever I pass by, begging for me to feed him. He’s growing on me a little bit. It’s the face smashing. It’s pretty funny.

But here’s the thing…the fish were Rock’s idea and Rock’s responsibility. I never had to feed them or clean the tank or anything. He picked them out, got excited about it and took care of them, for the most part. He started slacking off in the fish department much the same way he slacked off in the kid department during his final months in this house.

Now Rock is gone. But Kevin is still here. I asked Rock if he wanted to take Kevin with him to his Dad’s (where he is living for the time being). He didn’t. He said he would take him but that he would, um, send him to fishy heaven.

That gave me a little pang. Poor Kevin shouldn’t have to die just because I’m scared of fish. So I kept him. I’ve been feeding him and everything but he needed a new home. Desperately. And I’m just too grossed out to clean the tank, which is broken anyway. So last night, I bought him a new little home and some new rocks for the bottom. Black, with a few neon colored stones for good measure. Pretty killer, if I do say so myself.

So, what’s the problem, then?

I can’t get him into his new home. I don’t have a net. I just have a ladle. And while I’ve spoken to Kevin and assured him that the new home is better and that I also bought some fish food so he won’t have to smash his head against the side of his tank, he doesn’t appear to be listening because I can’t get him into the ladle and then into the bag to transfer his little orange body into his new digs. He freaks out and swims away and then smashes his little head against the side of his old tank.

Can somebody help me? Please?!

I keep taking breaks to gain my composure because the truth is, I don’t want to scoop him out. I hate fish, remember? But I do love Kevin, in a way, and want what’s best for him and I want to get rid of the broken, groddy looking tank. It’s an eye sore. And I don’t want Kevin to die. I’m not heartless! But how the fuck am I supposed to convince a fucking goldfish that his new kick ass black and neon bowl is better than the shit crusted tank Rock left him in?!

Please?! Someone? Anyone?!