In previous episodes, you’ve met the principal players in the Ralph chronicles. However, many more were involved in bringing Ralph to the printed, and now to the electronic, page. The largest and most important group was recognized in the dedication. And a fine group they are, too.
More were recognized in the acknowledgements.
In addition, I know of some editor out in cyberspace. There were others, I am sure, but I don’t know, or can’t recall at the moment.
Today’s story involves a fish, hence the errant “&F” in the title of this story. Don’t worry, Ralph is still in charge of everything. Since the fishies in the pond are extra camera shy, they didn’t pose. So here are some pictures of the pond at the not-Family homestead. You may remember the pond from It's a Dog's Life, but Your Goose is Cooked. I think the reason the pond keeps coming back in this and future stories is because our woozles love their pond.
Actually, there are no goldfish in the pond. The only fish in the pond are sterile Asian grass carp that keep plant growth down. The reason that the carp have been sterilized is that they are an invasive species and will mess up the eco-system if allowed to propagate. I have no idea how one does an hysterectomy on a carp, but you do pay for it when you buy the little finny things.
Just for a little diversion, here are Ralph’s Welsh cousins. Ralph is jealous:
As always, all the credit for the story goes to not-Elizabeth. She retains the copyright.
Carpe Diem
He had not meant to kill her; he was a peace-loving man. But it was a moot point. Thankfully, there was no blood anywhere and removal of the body could be done cleanly. But getting rid of the evidence would take some quick maneuvering, because from the sounds of the car in the driveway he had maybe 30 seconds before the onslaught of relatives would begin. This thought made him bump around the second floor bathroom anxiously, debating how best to proceed. Dumping what he could down the toilet, he hitched up his pants and flushed. Making a quick detour into the master bedroom to deposit incriminating artifacts under the bed, he then dashed down to greet the returning family members.
Ralph had been eying Arthur keenly as he went about this task. To him, the bathroom was not usually a source of amusement, although he did on occasion appreciate a quick drink out of the bowl. But Arthur’s agitation had piqued his interest.
Ralph was, however, an opportunist, and his curiosity had to be temporarily shelved when his ears picked up the approach of the car. More finely tuned to sound than Arthur, he was charging through the unlatched screen door to the outside by the time the flush had been rendered.
Ralph was always one to be first on the scene when company came, and the new arrivals, Arthur’s and Elizabeth’s son Ethan, Ethan’s wife Sarah and their three-year-old daughter Daisy were among his favorites. Daisy was not only kind to him but was also good for the occasional snack. He nuzzled her hand and sniffed. “Eau de Potato Chips,” he noted with satisfaction and licked her fingers. Wagging his welcome, all thoughts of Arthur’s clandestine endeavors took a back seat to the current attention he was receiving.
Arthur made it to the driveway after everyone had scrambled out of the vehicle. Seeing him, Daisy released her hold on Ralph and made a beeline toward his outstretched arms. She and her family had been on vacation to visit Sarah's relatives in Omaha and Arthur had not seen her for two whole weeks. He found Daisy a delight, lively and petite for her age, a redhead with a zest for life.
“So how was your trip?” he asked, placing her on his shoulders, and was rewarded in typical Daisy fashion with a glowing account of her visit to the Omaha zoo, complete with a long list of animals she had seen.
“Grandpa, it was great. We saw all these animals, and fishes, too. Little fishes and big fishes. But no whales,” she admitted sadly. Her chatter continued as he ushered them through the door and into the family room.
From the beginning, Daisy had been an animal lover. She had taken to Ralph immediately and treated him to gentle pats and strokes, never pounding on him as other toddlers less empathetic might do. She had begged for a dog of her own but had been told it was out of the question, not because of her tender age but because her mother was allergic to them. She had settled for Goldie, a creature that was most likely the most doted-on fish in the world. Goldie resided in a large bowl complete with castle, fake seaweed, and a floor of glittery pebbles which had been lovingly selected, one by one, on a previous trip to the shore.
Because Goldie was held in such high esteem, Arthur had been surprised when last month Daisy had begged him to take her fishing some day with him on the pond by their house.
“I don’t get it,” Arthur had commented to Elizabeth. “If she asked me to take her to the animal shelter it’d make more sense. But asking for a demonstration that involves threading a live worm onto a hook in order to snare a fish that will be eaten? I don’t know...”
There was a shade of condescension in her voice when Elizabeth informed him that Daisy had probably only a vague concept of what fishing was all about. She most surely did not see that a catch from the pond was meant for dinner, it was just a way to spend time with her grandpa. She might even consider it as a way to land a second pet. With this additional knowledge Arthur had begun to doubt the wisdom of such an outing. Once again, Sarah had settled the issue. There would be no fishing; Daisy was too little and the pond was too dangerous.
Arthur was reminded of that conversation as they entered the house and Daisy proceeded to enumerate all the types of fish she had seen. No, she certainly wasn’t viewing those critters as a source of food. He swung her down from his shoulders as everyone settled in the family room and Elizabeth began setting out iced tea, lemonade, and cookies for the thirsty travelers. Talk turned to the highlights of the trip, including visiting with relatives and having adventures at the zoo. Banished from the room to lessen the allergic effects on Sarah, Ralph was just wandering off to entertain himself when the ever tidy Elizabeth stooped to pick up a scrap of paper on the rug.
“Oh, for crying out loud!” she exclaimed. “Arthur, look, more remnants of the mess your dog made of some of our books. Will it never end?” She held in her hand a masticated chunk of what had once been part of the cover of Call of the Wild.
“This dog,” Elizabeth informed the guests, wagging a finger toward Ralph’s departing backside, “has methodically decimated a whole section of paperbacks from our bookshelves. And there is nothing funny about that!” she said, turning to scold Arthur, who was in mid-chuckle.
Arthur continued the story with his own insights. “You have to realize that Ralph has excellent taste in literature,” he explained. “You see, he devoured the classics. Old Yeller, Sounder, Shiloh, Where the Red Fern Grows, all well-loved stories. And in our house, now well-digested.”
At this, Ralph rolled his eyes. “Oh, my Dog,” he thought. Whether he was being dyslexic when invoking the name of a supreme being or substituting a canine for this position was unclear. It was clear that he was exasperated by his failure to have them grasp the literary statement he’d tried to make. Honestly, he loved the guy, but sometimes Arthur was clueless. Didn’t he notice a common thread to these classics? Didn’t they all contain some cruelty and often the heart-rending demise of the canine hero? Ralph sighed and realized that Oscar Wilde knew his subject matter when he wrote, “I think God, in creating man, overestimated his ability.” It was time to leave the room for some peace and quiet.
As Ralph wandered off and Elizabeth cooled down, conversation returned to what family members in Omaha were doing. But talk about jobs and chores held little interest for Daisy, and after a few minutes of fidgeting she announced that she should say hello to her own dear Goldie. Arthur had been entrusted with her care and feeding while the family was away, but now she was ready to resume the responsibility.
“You know what, grandpa?” she stated. “I think Goldie needs a bigger bowl, a really bigger bowl, and friends, like the fishes in the zoo. Let’s see Goldie. I bet she missed me.”
“I’m sure she did,” Arthur told her. “But you can finish your lemonade first. No need to rush.” Personally, Arthur was wishing for something a little stronger than the lemonade he was sipping. What was he to do? His granddaughter’s innocence and his reputation were about to disappear simultaneously.
He was jostled from this reverie by an all-too-familiar shriek emanating from his wife’s rather robust vocal chords.
“Ralph! What are you doing?” This was a somewhat unnecessary question, given that the dog was shaking his coat vigorously in plain sight, a coat drenched with water that was rapidly being dispersed among those present. Arthur made a dash toward Ralph to dampen the fierceness of his shaking and now clasping a drenched dog became aware of the totality of his wetness. This dog had taken more than a drink of water. This dog had done more than slurp out of a toilet bowl. This dog had been diving head-first into water somewhere, and it dawned on Arthur that there was only one explanation for this. There was something in water worth diving for, perhaps something gold and scaly floating on the surface. Something that he assumed had been flushed but... did he check? No. He’d been too preoccupied to do that. And on the heels of this epiphany, Daisy uttered once again words he would prefer not to hear.
“Ralph’s as wet as Goldie! Let’s go see her!”
A quick glance at Ralph informed Arthur that at least Goldie was not clamped between his jaws, but this provided only temporary relief. “Good Lord,” he thought, “she’s probably still floating in the bowl!” and he raced upstairs to check on the situation.
Entering the bathroom at a rapid clip, he skidded on the freshly watered tiles, landed hard on a pair of aging knees, and slid to a halt in front of the stool. Looking into its depths he realized he had never been so happy to see a dead carp as he was at this moment. Grabbing the edges of the toilet bowl and hauling himself up, Arthur had one of those flashes of insight he would never share with his wife. How right she had been, he thought, that one should always put the seat and the lid down.
He quickly fished Goldie out, hoping there just might be a chance to right this desperate situation, when he became aware of Ralph’s inquisitive eyes on him. “What do you want?” groused Arthur. “Haven’t you caused enough commotion for one day? You want me to share the catch here?”
Ralph wagged his tail in agreement. Finally, he was communicating with the man. Fifty-fifty would be fine with him. Although Arthur had fished it out of the bowl, he had done the lion’s share of the attempted catch. Maybe he could have it all?
“No way,” replied Arthur, possibly reading his thoughts. “Goldie’s going to that big ocean in the deep. I just need to convince Daisy that her pet wants to move from a castle to a pond.”
“Good luck with that,” thought Ralph. Personally, he felt that the right thing to do was to come clean to Daisy about the demise of her fish. Yes, she was young, but this was one of life’s lessons. But what did he know about the workings of a man’s mind? “I wash my paws of the whole mess,” he informed Arthur. “It would be much more ecologically correct if you just let me eat her. But I see you have your own ideas about right and wrong.”
Ralph knew his logic had escaped Arthur as he watched him race to the bedroom and quickly retrieve the well-appointed fish bowl from under his bed. Arthur then dashed to the bathroom, added water to the bowl and dumped a somewhat rigid Goldie back into her former home. Giving the bowl a jiggle, he noted with satisfaction that she appeared to be a fish in motion.
“Keep the water moving,” Arthur instructed himself, “keep the water moving.” Ralph gave him the eye.
“That’s another way of saying you're stirring the pot, something you’re accused of doing frequently,” he clarified, but Arthur was in no mood for an English lesson.
Although Pisces did not currently rule the heavens, the stars were aligned in Arthur’s favor. Due to her recent experiences at the zoo, Daisy agreed to move her pet to the pond and the relocation went off without a hitch. Goldie had been placed inside the castle to assure Daisy that she would continue to have something familiar in her new home. Serendipitously, it also guaranteed proper submersion.
Daisy somberly waved good-bye from the bank, surrounded by her mother’s love and two strong arms. Ralph sat at the edge of the water, bemoaning the waste of a perfectly good snack and visualizing a time when he might return to the scene. Arthur stood between them. The deed finally done, he breathed a sigh of relief and smiled, flushed with success.