Journal of a Goldfish Sitter

My neighbors Galen and Zoe, aged nine and three, have gone to San Diego to visit the zoo. Before leaving, they knocked on my door and asked if I would do something for them: "Would you feed our goldfish while we're away?"

I protested that I am irresponsible, unreliable and in all practical matters incompetent. "We know," said Galen. "But you're the only one left," said Zoe.

This is how I have become a goldfish sitter.

"You give them four pellets in the morning," said Galen. "And eight at night," said Zoe.

"And," she said, "don't stick your hand in the tank."

Why not?

"Because," said Galen, "it would upset the electric eel."

"And the stingray and piranhas," said Zoe.

"Have fun in San Diego," I said, and went to consult with my friend Jack Daniel.