When I first moved to Florida ten years ago, I knew hardly anyone. I thought I would get a pet to keep me company. But the condominium development I moved into did not allow pets. I decided I was going to get around this rule because I really wanted a living creature to keep me company. I couldn't get a dog or a cat. They would be too noticeable. I decided I would get a Fish. I went to the pet shop, and there in the window was the cutest little fish I had ever seen. He wagged his tail; he flapped his fins; he puffed his gills. He looked up at me with his big brown eyes. He wiggled his whole body. This was no cold fish. It was love at first sight, and it was mutual. He was a dogfish, so I called him Rover. But he wasn't a mongrel dogfish. He was a Cocker Spaniel dogfish. He had a pedigree. He came with papers and everything. He was the best pet anyone could ever want. But he had an addiction. He drank like a fish, which I suppose is genetic. You wouldn't believe what happened when I tried to wean him from his dependency on water, his substance of choice. It involved Moby Dick, The Little Mermaid, Finding Nemo, and Jaws; these are well known fish stories, but Rover is the biggest fish story of all.
