George

We own a fish. His name is George.

George is a beta fish, purchased on the cheap and installed in a small, inexpensive glass bowl as the centerpiece on one of the tables set up for a 1-year-old's Little Mermaid themed birthday party. He was one of several such fish and suffered through a cold rainy mid-May afternoon outside in that bowl. At the end of the party, the fish were unceremoniously returned to their original packaging and doled out to the departing partygoers.

And slowly, the reports trickled in -- fish were dying all throughout the Clifton-Passaic-Paterson area. All except for ours.

With each passing day, we expected our own fish to join the list of casualties. But he swam contentedly in his little bowl, devouring the fish food we deposited once daily and patiently suffering through water changes and bowl cleanings.

Until finally, we decided he was going to live. And that he needed a name.

George was my choice, selected on the spur of the moment. But as I introduced Angie officially to George and she repeated his name, it seemed right. Not long after he received his name, he moved into a bigger bowl -- one with colored pebbles and a plastic plant for decoration.

Now, he graces the center of our dining room table, his little eyes following us as we make our way around the room.

As pets go, George is a good one!