Ever wondered what gives life meaning? As a suicidal veterinarian specializing in aquatic life, I, Jack Superblack, contemplate this daily, usually while staring into the vacant eyes of a carnival goldfish. Today, we're diving (pun intended) into the existential angst of our scaly friends.
The typical day at my practice, Superblack Aquatic Therapy, usually starts with questioning my own existence and ends with treating fish that you wouldn't believe are just as messed up. My patients aren't your average Joe; they’re bettas from pet stores that have seen things you wouldn't believe, and koi that cost more than a car but are as emotionally fragile as a leaf in the wind.
Take, for instance, Glub Glub, a goldfish, whose owner Mr. Whiskers (yes, that’s a pseudonym) believes his little swimmer might be having an identity crisis. Glub Glub doesn’t interact with tank decorations or other fish—just floats there, pondering the void. Sound familiar?
I started my journey in fish therapy quite unexpectedly. Just like Dr. Jessie Sanders, my collegiate aspirations involved working with whales and avoiding social contact. One day, as fate would have it, I was thrust into the underappreciated world of fish counseling. And I've been swimming in these troubled waters ever since.
To my fellow humans who wonder if it’s all worth it, I say look at these fish. They don't even know what's coming and yet here they are, showing up to therapy. Makes you think, right?
Life’s a slippery slope; it’s easy to flounder. Which brings us to a rather morbid thought — perhaps one day, I'll end up like one of these fish, floating belly-up, finally knowing peace. Until then, I’ll keep dishing out fishy advice. Here's to hoping I don’t die alone, but considering the company I keep, it’s looking... fishy.
Based on the original article "For an Aquatic Veterinarian, It’s Never ‘Just a Fish’".
