Every once in awhile, it’s essential to take a break. But we have a problem. His name is Frankie. I first wrote about Frankie - my pet fish and personal secretary - last July 13. Perhaps concerned about job security, Frankie has since made himself even more useful, now assuming the role of our chauffeur. Frankie has become indispensable, so we hate to leave home without him.
The last time we took Frankie on vacation, he hung around the local bars, ordering bourbon and water. We were very embarrassed, because he kept throwing out the bourbon. When we carried him back to our hotel room, he sank to the bottom of his bowl, looking lifeless and depressed. We soon learned that the water in our hotel was heavily chlorinated, and only then understood why Frankie looked so sick. Realizing the futility of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, we cut our vacation short and dashed home.
We’re currently holidaying in the mountains, where Frankie desperately wanted to accompany us. Carrying an ice pop stick under one gill, he’d hoped to try his fin at snowboarding. Alas! No one makes helmets in Frankie’s size, so he abandoned that idea as we abandoned him to a fish sitter.
We’ve already heard reports that the sitter eats seafood chowder in Frankie’s presence, which he finds scary. When her efforts to teach him to “shake a fin” failed, she threatened to make him play the far more dangerous game of “roll over.” Frankie’s afraid. Very, very afraid. His sitter says that if he doesn’t shape up, he’ll “swim with the fishes.” We’re not quite sure what she means by that, but Frankie recently sent us this sad little video:
We’ll be home soon, with plenty of new recipes. I’ve found a great one for trout!
Whoops! Maybe not! I don’t want to mess with Frankie’s dark side. xox Nicole
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