Meet Gill

Hi, my name is Gill. I am an angelfish and this is my home. You'll notice I have no tankmates. I've eaten them all, although some have gone to that big fishbowl in the sky all on their own. I really am a cantankerous sort of fella. I apparently am so "mean" that my peoples will not bring me anymore playmates.

The lady that feeds me every day seems to be an odd sort of person. She swims past me and waves her fins, makes goofy faces, and talks to me when she drops in my food. She has numerous nicknames for me such as "The Gillster" and "Gilly McGillenstein". She is an odd sort of duck.

When she is not "doting" on me, or admiring my fins, she knits. I would say she used to be a hobby knitter. You know, working on the odd project now and then. But I dare say it has crossed the line into obsession/addiction. I am getting a bit concerned for my lady. She used to try to keep the house tidy...but not so much anymore. If she does clean, it is usually because somebody is coming to visit and it becomes a whirlwind of activity...dusting, scrubbing, sweeping, hiding junk in the cupboards. It's really quite sad.

She has become quite preoccupied as of late. If she has a minute or two between flipping great Canadian steaks on the bar-b-que you will find her hunched over her knitting seeing how many repeats she can accomplish before the timer sends her back out into the cold. If the phone happens to ring she mutters to herself as she swims across the room. She even encourages her daughter to have long showers in order to knit as much as she can before the kid gets out.

I've also noticed this scarf she's been working on. She has an unusual attachment to the alpaca fibre. She must be cold or something, because she's constantly pressing the knitted fibre to her face and uttering all sorts of ooooh's and aaaaaah's. It must help because she then just sits back and stares at it, smiling like a lunatic.

I try not to say too much for fear of sending my dear lady over the edge. But I do worry about her. What if she forgets to feed me? I no longer have tankmates to nibble on...what will I eat? Perhaps if I keep to myself and flare out my fins now and then to impress her, she will continue to swim past, make goofy faces, and feed me. She will tell me what a handsome boy I am and I will silently agree. After all, look in the mirror...what's not to love?