Titles Are Stupid

So, I suppose I should tell you about things I did today, or in my life, or whatever. And maybe I will. But not today. Today I shall be blogging about my fish. That's right, my fish.

I have a fish named Flint. Well, that's his official name. At home we just call him Fishy. He's a goldfish. He's a bit of a chubby goldfish. When I got him, he was really small, but he doubled in size. Either they underfed him at the pet store (Or wherever he came from. I got him at a school fair, so I really don't know) or I overfeed him. Or maybe both. Anyways, I started putting him on a diet, because I'm afraid he might explode. And that would be very bad. He now gets two regular meals a day of his smelly fish food.

Now my fish is a pretty smart little fish. He knows when it's feeding time. He goes up to the top of the bowl and sticks his head up, practically begging me to feed him. When I walk over and takes out his food he swims up to the side of the bowl, as close as he can get to me without going through the bowl. When put his food in he circles the bowl, making sure no one else will steal his food. He swims really fast, as if going faster will make sure no one can get to it. Then, he goes up and eats his food. He darts up to the top and bites and then swims down to finish chewing. He repeats this process until all of the food is gone.

And that is my fish Flint.