A to Z/Day 7- letter G

G is for Goldfish. I had a goldfish. His name was Morpheus, and much like his name-sake, he was big and black (he had gold flecks speckled about his fat black body, so I suppose that's what qualified him as a goldfish; that, and some other scientifically mundane trait classification chart). Morpheus also had giant eyes atop his head, which put him in the "he's-so-ugly-he's-cute" category of existence...not the worst list to be on, I suppose. There's always the "he's-so-ugly-he's-ugly" list, so I guess you could say that Morpheus had a fin up on the world and its grotesque need for labeling. But that is not what made him special. Despite what many humans like to think, not all goldfish spend their lives swimming about their tanks, desperately trying to escape the relentless piece of aquatic doo-doo trailing from their asses. Not all goldfish pass the time between feedings by staring at the other identical goldfish in the tank that has seemingly decided to devote its life to being an irritating mimic. No. Morpheus was so much more than that.

He had such ingenuity; for instance, at "play-time," he would place himself above the air bubbles that came out of the air bubble thing on the bottom of his tank, and he would let it push him lazily up to the top of his watery world. Then, he would swim back down and do it again. And again. And again. Crazy fish. He was so special.

He also got the biggest kick out of "playing dead." There he would be, lying in the corner, eyes holding a wild blank stare while I tapped frantically on the glass, screeching his name.  Every time I would think, "This is it. He really is dead this time." And just before I would reach for the net thing that nets things out, he would jump back to life.  He got me every time with that trick.  I would scold him, insisting that one day he really would be dead, and I wouldn't believe him because he was the "fish that cried shark."  He never did get the point, but I could never stay mad at him for long.  Crazy, crazy fish.  He really was special. 
He had this way of cheering me up, too.  When I was feeling down, I would often sit in front of his tank and watch him.  And, as odd as this sounds, it was as if he could sense my murky mood.  Each time -without fail- he would swim over to me and....are you ready for this?...he would make funny faces at me!  Am I kidding you?  No, I am not!  I swear by god.  He would do this thing with his lips, pooching them in and out.  It was hysterical.  Oh, how we would laugh!  Crazy, crazy, crazy fish.  Incredibly special.
Of course, everyone knows that goldfish usually die after just a short time (I've never understood why people marvel at this as if it is some huge mystery), but not my Morpheus: he held his breath for almost four years!  Didn't I say he was special?