Tom, Ben, and Jerry

My anemone ate my clownfish.

I have to admit, I never saw that coming. Actually, it took me a very long time to be sure that's what happened, and that Jerry wasn't just hiding somewhere in the tank. Not a trace of him anywhere. Turns out, anemones are very tidy eaters.

Anyway, after it happened, I did some research and discovered that the earlier posts I'd read about this particular variety of anemone (Haitian) weren't being quite as blunt about the dangers as would have been useful. I thought it was just that clownfish don't show an interest in Haitians, since the article said they didn't bond well. I thought my two were being an exception, since Jerry looked so happy all snuggled into the tentacles.

I mean... he would dart out to chase Tom or the damsels, and then rush back to Ben like he thought one of the other fish might try to claim his seat. If he was being eaten that whole time, one wouldn't think he could get away or that he would come back.

Also, he would go fetch the shrimp pieces I dropped in the tank and take them back to Ben to feed him, which was just the cutest thing to watch.

Maybe Ben felt smothered by love? Jerry was always right next to him at every possible moment. So, Ben just went, "snap," and swallowed Jerry whole?

A part of me wants to laugh - mostly, I think, out of shock. The rest of me, once I finally got past the denial and bargaining stages, hid under my blankets. Obviously, I am an utterly horrible fish mommy. I keep picturing the last time I saw Jerry (much deeper in the anemone than usual) and wondering if that was when he was getting eaten and how I could possibly have missed his tragically agonized expression...

which, of course, I was only imagining in hindsight, and I know this because fish faces don't express agony like that.

Also, clownfish have a perpetually down-turned set of lips, so they always look the dolphin's grumpy old great uncle, yelling at the world to stay off their anemone.

So, then I got into the angry area of grief, and stalked over to the tank to scoop Ben out and put him in the quarantine tank. He probably wasn't a danger to Tom, who had shown zero interest in any anemones, but I decided I'd rather not take any changes.

Ben looks insufferably pleased with himself, sprawled out all over quarantine's floor.

I'm sure there is a lesson in all of this, some deep and profound moral truth that I will definitely be digging out and recording in my diary, but, for the moment... I'm still trying to accept what happened.

I did go get two new clownfish and a clownfish-compatible anemone, none of which have yet been named. The guy at the pet store warned me that the yellow variety of clownfish (there's a more scientific name for the species, I just don't remember it) is more aggressive towards its look-alikes than its look-alikes are, so I may need to set up one of my empty tanks sooner than planned.

The quarantine is only a 10 gallon, not something a clownfish can be housed in long term, even if I did move Ben into my newly planned shelf tank.

Anyhow, this concludes the first adventure of the salt water tank. One weekend in, they've already proved more dramatic than my freshwater companions. Its like a bad soap opera!

The villainous Ben (foreground; looks like a green centipedal octopus) awaits the next and final visit of the unsuspecting Jerry (midground, yellow clownfish). Tom, sensing trouble, hides off camera.