Brilliant … But Bouncy

We Named Him Hambone.

Dylan rescued some Betta fish from our local aquarium before the end of summer. They live in separate tanks, because otherwise Bettas will kill each other. Dylan rescued the fish, and then he went back to college. So we have these two fish.

Tidbit was a tiny little thing, completely white – drained both of color and energy. White is the color of despair in Bettas. When they have no reason left to live, their color leaves their body and they begin to die. Tidbit was completely lethargic when we got him. But Dylan changed all that. Tidbit regained a ton of color and now charges around his ten-gallon tank, attacking his food with vigor – a completely different fish.

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Hambone was a mystery. Pinkish-white in color, his eyes were enormous, glaring defects on the sides of his head. His ailment is called “pop-eye,” because his eye sockets literally pop out of his head. It didn’t heal with traditional treatments, so Dylan decided that he’s had a serious head injury. No one expected him to live.

We named him Hambone when Shane jokingly suggested it; the fish was responding stupidly to everything. He spent his days smashed between the filter and the side of the tank. Feeding him required waiting for him to find the top of the tank, then dropping the food directly on his face. In spite of everything, Hambone regained his color and – in spite of his disability – he is now thriving.

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Over the last six months, feeding Hambone has gotten more challenging. His right eye is now as bad as his left, and he finds his food by following shadows, responding to the movement of the tank’s light when I lift the lid.

It’s sad, and Hambone often seems sad. He’s not zipping around like Tidbit.

When Dylan came home over Christmas break, he spent a lot of time on the piano which, coincidentally, is right next to Hambone’s tank. Dylan played for hours. His piano playing offers glorious music to a house that is otherwise pretty quiet.

So when he went back to college, everyone noticed – even Hambone.

Hambone was moping in his cage, and I realized quite suddenly that Hambone had been peppier with Dylan home. I wondered: was it the constant influx of music?

I raced to my 1968 Wurlitzer, which is in the same room, and played three songs for the fish, watching carefully. Hambone didn’t respond. So I sat down at the piano and played my one-finger version of Heart and Soul.

Hambone sprung to life. I played Heart and Soul for five straight minutes and Hambone swam around his cage excitedly. When I stopped playing, he stopped swimming.

I can’t play the same song with one finger all day long – but Hambone had been so excited….

So I rigged Alexa to play piano for him, which works until a commercial blasts at Volume 10. Then I tried Elton John and Billy Joel CDs – but Hambone freezes or hides during guitar riffs and blaring saxaphones.

Hambone only likes the piano. So Shane found an old bluetooth speaker, and I found piano music on YouTube that allows the music to play for hours without interruption. For hours each day, I play piano music for a legally blind fish.

Hambone has found a new life. He can’t see a thing, and feeding him is nearly impossible. But he’s happy – so obviously, swimmingly happy – that nothing else matters.