Days passed, and I made a habit of sitting on the deck, looking out at the pond and imagining what my fish were doing, or I sat on the bench by the pond and checked on their activity. I had been warned that cranes and other birds, even raccoons and foxes, would snatch my fish, but there hadn’t been any sign of a predator or intruder. Not even a frog. I was learning how best to feed them, never giving too much, and the hours when they were hungry. Actually, the freshly dug pond was full of natural food, and to my delight this included mosquitoes that never learned not to fly too close to the water surface. My brave fish didn’t seem to miss one, and I felt that I had been avenged by my little pets. Because indeed they were my pets, the best kind: they were quiet, undemanding, could not leave the pond and were always busy with themselves. If I had guests they would not rush to sniff or jump around like stupid dogs do, but to the contrary, my fish demanded respect from visitors who had to behave in order to see them. As for me, just the idea that no fish until now had been living for miles around my property made me feel like a winner.
Except for my coughing, which had gotten worse, everything was great until one night there was a heavy rainstorm. From upstream came a torrent like I had never seen before. My pond overflowed and the bridge was pushed aside. I felt awful the next morning as I surveyed the disaster and took pictures. Nothing in the world is safe for too long. Eagerly, I looked for my fish, but I couldn’t see them in the muddy water. I dug an additional large channel for the extra water to flow out the pond and brought the bridge back to its place. I re-set the stones under its four corners and hammered solid stakes into the ground to frame the bridge and hold it tight. I wanted to make sure the bridge never moved again. In addition, I put a rope across each entrance to the bridge, to prevent children from the neighborhood from playing on it and hurting themselves.
It took another day for the water to calm down and become transparent once again. But still there were no fish to be seen. I was afraid they had been flushed over the dam by the rapid water. Sadly, I sat on the bench and reflected on the unpredictability of life, as I had discussed and demonstrated in my Effectology. Then suddenly I saw my leader dashing in and out of the mud! Happily I had brought food and I sprinkled a few granules that floated slowly toward the damaged dam. In seconds at least ten fish jumped at the opportunity for a free lunch. My happiness could not be described, especially because none of the fish ran away from me. My fish knew the pond was their home and probably they fought hard against the torrent, not to be carried away.
To ensure their safety I decided to build one more shelter. I dug a cave under the water into the middle of the bank and reinforced it with strong boards and large stones. Now no torrent could sweep inside the new, deep in-ground shelter and endanger my fish. From a garden shop I bought a dolphin statue that I placed above the secret cave entrance to add stability by breaking the fury of any fast water that came from upstream. The dolphin gave my pond an Italian look.
Still concerned about the past storm damage, I decided to check around the pond and sure enough, I found one fish trapped beyond the dam between two stones in a puddle of water. With no room to escape, it ended up in my palm and for the first time I was able to look closely at a vigorous squirming bluegill. I released him back into the pond, and he darted from one end to the other a few times and then dashed into the shelter where nothing could touch him. Looking around again, I discovered another fish trapped in the net, but still in the water. It didn’t move at my approach, but became violently agitated when I tried to catch it. Again, when released in the pond, it toured the edges a few times, and recognizing familiar sites, raced into the second shelter as well. In the next days I tried to count my fish population, but I never got past 20. Because of the shelters, I’ll never be certain how many fish I have in the pond, something I hadn’t anticipated.
About ten days passed since I officially completed my fish pond. I still drank water to calm my system, but coughed worse than ever. My breathing was very shallow and my pulse was weak and highly irregular. Sitting on the bench and surveying my accomplishment, I reflected on what was the most difficult thing to do in life and decided it was to start and finish a project on good terms. I was experiencing the greatest satisfaction one can have, to be able to carry a task to a pleasing end. There is no more jubilant feeling, and the rougher the battle, the more rewarding the result. I watched my fish chasing each other, some trying to set a speed record for crossing the pond. I noticed that my “leader” as usual seemed to be in charge of all actions. The more I watched, the more I wondered if my pond fish had already created a divided society with different classes in the murky water. I smiled, remembering a joke about how our society boils down: the poor people work and the rich exploit them; the military defends both of them, while the taxpayers subsidize the welfare people who take advantage of all of them. However, the drunkard consumes more alcohol than all five mentioned and the bankers put them in debt, while the lawyers swindle everyone, and the doctors kill the most. The caretakers bury all of them in cemeteries… Just like a bumper sticker, there is a lot of truth in any popular joke.
Indeed, where there is a group of people, automatically one takes charge and the rest follow. And here is an example, hard as it is to believe: if exceptionally gifted students are put in one classroom, a percentage will fail some curriculums and a few will repeat the year. Winners and losers, leaders and followers seem to be a must in any social organization. The theory is valid for the military, office work, and all aspects of life that establishes a hierarchy. And here is the cruel irony: it is not the bravest soldier, the most brilliant clerk or the hardest worker who is promoted, but the one who never causes any problem and does not do too much to be a threat to his superiors; in other words, it is the one whose name nobody knows. The worst thing is to volunteer to do extra work, because doing so you’ll not only get more work but you’ll also make more mistakes. Therefore when Joe Dow’s name is mentioned in the promotional meeting where no one knows anything about him, it means only one thing: he is not a troublemaker and is entitled to be advanced through the ranks. He is also the easiest to get rid if things turn sour and someone needs to be axed. Back to my restless fish society, it made me wonder who was who in my pond. Of course the big one came to the surface to size me up as he moved slowly side to side. I decided to “officially” call him “The Leader,” as he well deserved the title. I remembered that Adolf Hitler who won two Iron Crosses for bravery in WII was refused a rank promotion because of “lack of leadership.”
I was continuing to experience serious weakness and premature fatigue. The dry cough that crushed my lungs and ribs, splitting my head with pain was not being cured with medication I bought over the counter. Hot tea didn’t help either. It reached the point where I could not sleep at all at night. I realized I needed to go and see a doctor. When I called for the appointment, my cough was so violent that I could barely speak on the phone, and the merciful nurse squeezed me into the overbooked schedule for the next day. I was quite sure there was something terribly wrong with my lungs, and that would explain why I was so tired during my work and almost collapsed. It was likely, I felt sure, that I simply did not have enough air being supplied to my head and body.