Henrietta Hay's Column

When my Siamese cat, Tiggy, died last year, it was the end of my cat era. I have had cats all my life. The first one I can remember was a little black creature with white nose and paws. I met my first Siamese here in Grand Junction many years ago when I had dinner with some friends and a small kitten spent most of the evening sitting on my head and shoulders. She ended up going home with me. Like Rita Mae Brown, I am definitely a cat person. I do believe that the Siamese cat is the most beautiful animal in the world.

After that first Siamese kitten which, of course, grew up to be a cat, we went through a long succession of cat families. At the present time, however, cat ownership is not practical. I accept this, but I don't like it. There are several cats living with my friends whom I see from time to time. "Rambo the cat from Hell" does not look forward to my visits. Mandy is quite polite, but not overly enthusiastic. Pepper will sit on my lap briefly, but he wants me to know that he is doing me a favor. I carefully avoid the pet store windows for fear a kitten will give me the eye and I will not be able to resist.

But I had to have a pet. If not a cat, what? A puppy would not fit my life style. I did not think too much of my friend Katie's pet rat. Hamsters and gerbils left me cold. I think pet boa constrictors should be banished to Africa or India or wherever they came from.

So I ended up a year ago with a tank full of tropical fish. They have been a great success. They do not make a noise, they do not need a litter box, and they do not sit between you and the book you are trying to read. They are beautiful to look at as they swish back and forth. It is mesmerizing to watch them because they seem to have something in mind to do, but they never get around to doing it. The two baby angel fish which were about the size of a nickel a year ago grew to about the size of a $5 bill cut in half.

I had a pair of crimson swordfish. For about a month this winter I wasn't paying much attention to the fish or anything else, and when I finally noticed, I had three swords. Mother Nature at work.

But then disaster struck. One by one most of my beautiful fish bit the dust - or the gravel or whatever. Lesson # 1. There is no pet that does not require constant attention, knowledge and a certain amount of work. Lesson #2. While not as traumatic as the death of a four legged pet, it is disturbing to flush down a tiny fish you have watched swim for a year. Lesson #3. When something starts to go wrong in a fish tank, yell for help immediately.

By the time I got the tank back in balance, as the fish experts say, I was without most of my fish family. So now I am starting over with some new fish and a lot more knowledge and experience.

The remaining angel is the Number One Fish. He oversees all the others and captures most of the attention as he goes back and forth on his fish business. He has staked out his territory at the front of the tank. All the other residents swim further back. I hesitate to suggest that fish have personality, but Buster comes close. He does swim over to the corner of the tank when I approach - especially when I have food in my hand. I don't think I can assume he likes me, but he does know food when he sees it.

I still like cats best but the fish are a fair substitute. Cats are soft and loving and make a wonderful noise when they purr. Fish can't be petted, but they are beautiful to look at and the glub glub of the filter in the tank is rather soothing.

Oh well, you can't have everything.