The Trouble with Tails
This isn't BettaSplendid's usual guide or informational post. Instead, this is a post with a few stories, stories that I think are really important to hear. They're about tails: too-long tails that are being bred into bettas in the name of design and "fashion", and are causing pain, suffering, and loss. This post isn't here to make you feel bad for liking long-tailed bettas; on the contrary, it is simply here to show you the negative side to excessive finnage, and the heartbreak it has caused for me.
Baller's story:
I'm not going to sit here and pretend that this story doesn't still bring tears to my eyes. I'm also not going to pretend that I hope it makes you think twice about getting a fish with excessive finnage. Bear with my sappiness; Baller was my little boy, and my favorite fish.
Basch had just died. He was a gift from my boyfriend for Valentine's day and my first ever Aquabid fish. He was sweet and goofy with a little lick of fire in him that made me smile. Basch's heart-shaped mark on his side was happenstance and something my boyfriend pretended he knew about all along.
Basch died, miserably. One day, not many weeks after arriving, he grew slow and sad. I'd only been keeping fish for a short while and didn't quite know what to do. Do I medicate? For what? Will it hurt him? I quarantined Basch from his brother Alle in their divided tank and added salt. A few hours later, Basch was clearly dying. His face had grown white and his body was covered in fluff. I learned after an intense panic-stricken research binge that it was columnaris, and that he may not live. I ignored my schoolwork and went out during a blizzard to get him medicine.
He died despite it. I cried and cried and felt miserable- not for myself, but for him. I could have saved him, if only I'd known better. We buried Basch near my favorite spot near the lake. His grave remains undisturbed to this day.
Basch had just died. He was a gift from my boyfriend for Valentine's day and my first ever Aquabid fish. He was sweet and goofy with a little lick of fire in him that made me smile. Basch's heart-shaped mark on his side was happenstance and something my boyfriend pretended he knew about all along.
Basch died, miserably. One day, not many weeks after arriving, he grew slow and sad. I'd only been keeping fish for a short while and didn't quite know what to do. Do I medicate? For what? Will it hurt him? I quarantined Basch from his brother Alle in their divided tank and added salt. A few hours later, Basch was clearly dying. His face had grown white and his body was covered in fluff. I learned after an intense panic-stricken research binge that it was columnaris, and that he may not live. I ignored my schoolwork and went out during a blizzard to get him medicine.
He died despite it. I cried and cried and felt miserable- not for myself, but for him. I could have saved him, if only I'd known better. We buried Basch near my favorite spot near the lake. His grave remains undisturbed to this day.
Basch left a hole in my heart. He was a sincere and tenderly thought out gift from by boyfriend, and I'd killed him. I was cocky and never bothered to research the "less common" diseases that could strike. My heart was left empty and sad.
I didn't want another fish, only Alle. I worried that I'd kill him, too.
A while went by and my birthday was getting close. I was still sore from Basch's loss and the "wasted" space of my undivided 5 gallon tank which leered at me from across the room. Alle was a slow boy and didn't even need the space. I was restless and guilty, and it was still all my fault.
Its deep into spring and my birthday is even closer now. My boyfriend begs me to tell him what I want, and I brush him off. "I don't know, I don't know." I was being a total brat and I knew it.
I didn't want another fish, only Alle. I worried that I'd kill him, too.
A while went by and my birthday was getting close. I was still sore from Basch's loss and the "wasted" space of my undivided 5 gallon tank which leered at me from across the room. Alle was a slow boy and didn't even need the space. I was restless and guilty, and it was still all my fault.
Its deep into spring and my birthday is even closer now. My boyfriend begs me to tell him what I want, and I brush him off. "I don't know, I don't know." I was being a total brat and I knew it.
I browsed Aquabid in my spare time and came across a cute little guy unlike any I'd ever seen before. He had a white body and a yellow and blue butterfly pattern that was crisp and unique. I sheepishly asked if I could get him for my birthday. To my surprise, my boyfriend happily said yes. We waited nervously on the bid, and won. The little boy was mine!
I bought a new tank, another 5 gallon, even though my parents were furious with me for it. I wasn't going to have sickness spreading be an issue with this new kid- no way. He got his own space and everything was just for him.
The fish came early- very early- in the post and I missed an entire day's worth of class to greet him. I shut all the lights off and carefully unpacked him, being careful not to stress the little thing. I almost couldn't even see him.
The fish came early- very early- in the post and I missed an entire day's worth of class to greet him. I shut all the lights off and carefully unpacked him, being careful not to stress the little thing. I almost couldn't even see him.
He was gorgeous. Absolutely beautiful. I fell in love with his looks and prayed for the same sweetness as I'd found in Basch. I worried aloud to my friends that I'd be crushed if he didn;t like me the same way Basch did. They told me to give it time.
I gave it time, and gave him the name Balthier.
He didn't like me. I was deflated.
His spirit was mean and his demeanor sour. Ugh, I'd gotten another Alle, and that was no good. Damn.
I gave it time, and gave him the name Balthier.
He didn't like me. I was deflated.
His spirit was mean and his demeanor sour. Ugh, I'd gotten another Alle, and that was no good. Damn.
Time went on and Balthier still didn't like me. He never paid my presence any mind and never interacted with anything I'd so painstakingly put into his tank for his enjoyment.
Very suddenly, everything changed. Balthier was nice. Pleasant, even. Goofy as can be and such a charmer.
Something was up, though. His fins had damage, but from what? It didn't matter- he liked me!
Very suddenly, everything changed. Balthier was nice. Pleasant, even. Goofy as can be and such a charmer.
Something was up, though. His fins had damage, but from what? It didn't matter- he liked me!
It was love. What a dope this new guy was, and flashy to boot. My roommate said he was "a baller", and so became his nickname, Baller. An unfitting name for such a gentleman, but it wouldn't go away.
Things were blissful. I had two healthy, happy, gorgeous boys and everyone loved them. They were my company in college when people were treating me terribly, and Baller was my best friend. Things were amazing.
Until they weren't.
Baller's tail began to melt away. I vowed to take initiative and heal my pal. With aggressive salt treatments and intense research, I was not going to let him be hurt. But, the damage was done. There was no going back.
Until they weren't.
Baller's tail began to melt away. I vowed to take initiative and heal my pal. With aggressive salt treatments and intense research, I was not going to let him be hurt. But, the damage was done. There was no going back.
It was getting worse. That tiny nick in his tail began to eat Baller alive. The progression was quick and unforgiving.
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I left for a short vacation and put Baller in the most comprehensive, expensive medicine I could afford. I prayed when I came back he wouldn't be dead. I tearfully told my boyfriend I didn't want to go- my boy was so sick, how could I leave him like this?
My return brought happy news. Baller was in fair shape, and his tail had stop receeding. Things were looking up.
I had missed Baller so much. He missed me. His playfulness had returned and he could move around again. His fins were no longer literally falling apart as he moved, and began to regrow. It was amazing. I figured it was beaten, and that my friend was going to finally be okay after months of fighting. I loved him even more.
I was wrong.
The raging disease came back and ripped Baller apart again and again and again. He was medicated nearly every day of his life, and was in a cup more than he was in his tank. It was so unfair.
The bouts came and went. Medicine, love, worry, regression. Repeat. It was no way to live.
My return brought happy news. Baller was in fair shape, and his tail had stop receeding. Things were looking up.
I had missed Baller so much. He missed me. His playfulness had returned and he could move around again. His fins were no longer literally falling apart as he moved, and began to regrow. It was amazing. I figured it was beaten, and that my friend was going to finally be okay after months of fighting. I loved him even more.
I was wrong.
The raging disease came back and ripped Baller apart again and again and again. He was medicated nearly every day of his life, and was in a cup more than he was in his tank. It was so unfair.
The bouts came and went. Medicine, love, worry, regression. Repeat. It was no way to live.
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He was too good for this. Too loving and too good of a soul. His days were spent in a cup and he was weighed down in the shallow space by the fins that were slowly killing him. I regretted buying such a heavily-finned fish. It was my fault, again.
Baller never stopped being sweet. People would come to see him and comment on how loving he was, and how obsessed he was towards me. Baller would constantly be on the side of his tank nearest me, and would freak out when I returned home from class. If I would cup my hand around the bend of the tank, he would fall asleep there. God, he didn't deserve this.
Baller never stopped being sweet. People would come to see him and comment on how loving he was, and how obsessed he was towards me. Baller would constantly be on the side of his tank nearest me, and would freak out when I returned home from class. If I would cup my hand around the bend of the tank, he would fall asleep there. God, he didn't deserve this.
Things grew even more desperate. Literally every day for well over 6 months this little fish was medicated in a cramped cup, and was miserable for it. This was no way to live.
He began to die. Medicine and disease were finally getting to my sweetest little boy, and I knew it. I prepared for the worst and loved Baller even more.
He began to die. Medicine and disease were finally getting to my sweetest little boy, and I knew it. I prepared for the worst and loved Baller even more.
His fins were losing color. It became so hard for Baller to swim I switched his side of the tank to not face me, because he always wanted to be near me. God, this was so unfair. I felt miserable, again. It was Basch all over again. I'd sentenced a fish to die. This time it was because I'd thought he was pretty with those long fins. It was killing him, and it was my fault. And for what? I had so much regret, and even more sorrow. My poor baby.
It was November. Thanksgiving was close and I knew Baller wasn't going to make it to the Holidays. His face became riddled with columnaris, no doubt from resistance to medicine, and his fins began to slough off. He was missing his ventrals and pectoral fin, his dorsal was only rays, and his tail was nearly gone. Living was misery.
Where was my little boy? He was gone from the rot. I'd done everything and bought every medication from what felt like every country in the world. We was losing and my heart was going with him.
I brought him home for Thanksgiving break. I knew it was going to be the last time he ever saw his home in my dorm room. I tried, one last time, in vain to help him but with no luck. He could barely move and wasn't able to eat. He tried so hard to come and see me that I cried until my boyfriend took him for a few days to rest, without me. All the poor thing wanted was to be near me, and I couldn't even let him do it.
The day of our 5 hour trip back to school, I knew he couldn't make it. I took my sweet boy into a cup and just held him to keep him warm. It was all over, and it was hell on earth. He began to die in the morning, and I held him close. With a little clove oil to feel comfortable, probably for the first time in years, Baller died in my hands.
I couldn't even feel sad: I had to leave in a half hour.
I buried my boy in the back yard of my parent's house, under a big strong tree that I knew we'd never cut down because we loved it so much. I wrapped him in a bunch of leaves and placed a gorgeous stone above his spot. My boy was gone, and now I had to pretend I was okay for 5 hours in the car. I knew I'd never have my charming boy back again to nip my
I couldn't even feel sad: I had to leave in a half hour.
I buried my boy in the back yard of my parent's house, under a big strong tree that I knew we'd never cut down because we loved it so much. I wrapped him in a bunch of leaves and placed a gorgeous stone above his spot. My boy was gone, and now I had to pretend I was okay for 5 hours in the car. I knew I'd never have my charming boy back again to nip my
