Hello. Babaloo the Betta here. King Babaloo to you: proud royalist, legal immigrant, and member of the Blue Party. I will be your aquatic guide to a quiet Saturday at Mommy's house or, as the humans like to call it, Castle Bramenstein.
First, a little background on where we live. Though I only got a quick glimpse of it through my temporary transportation module (aka the plastic bag mom carried me home in), I can verify that we live in a lush and flowery place. I still remember when we came up the driveway and I looked out to see the eight foot tall brugmansia with its long, graceful trumpet-like flowers. A fish could get lost in a flower like that.

I also saw many lovely shady spots, filled with ferns. I recall flagging my fins approvingly. Shade is good.

Even now, in early October, our Southern garden continues to bloom.

While certain physical limitations prevent me from personally exploring the garden's delights, some of my siblings are a bit more podal and oxygen-friendly. Take my royal sister Jasmine, for example. Here she is, making sure none of the wild birds can get to any of the food or drink Mommy gives them. Good kitty! Your mindless dedication to protecting resources is applauded by your king.

And then there's Leaf aka Leaflet, the baby of the family and bane of my fishly existence. I'm not saying I dislike the brat, I'm just saying I'd rather she did not keep trying to climb into my tank.
She looks so winsome at a distance

But when you see her close up, well, I think you can tell what a hell-raiser she is. (Don't be fooled by that whole "aren't I the cutest cuddliest thing you ever saw" act.)

By now you may be thirsting to see the peasants in the 20 gallon community tank below mine. Here they are all romping together, swimming in each other's pee.

Cory cats and danios, otos and shrimp all together. It's like a damn anarchist commune!

Several fathoms below, Aunt Ketzl keeps guard over my guppies. I call them MY guppies because I eat some of their young. Ahahahahaha. SLURP! YUM! Guppy fry! Fine fine food for a king. Aunt Ketzl decided this was the optimum solution to the guppy overpopulation problem and I couldn't agree more. A day without guppy fry is a day of dry flakes. Feh!

While I can't say my dog relatives are more dignified than my cat relatives, they do not harass me or get too close for comfort. I appreciate their discretion. Or, more accurately, their fundamental laziness. We had to wake them up just to get a picture.

They always look so reproachful when we snap them out of dreams of chasing bunnies.

For some reason, they are granted special privileges, like sleeping in Mommy's arms every night. Maybe it's because they make such charming bed cushions.

Finally, I know you've been dying to see me in my royal majesty. You'd never know that earlier this week I had a bad case of Ick and was close to death. But Mommy and Dad caught it quickly and did all the right things and now I am long and strong again!
So behold King Babaloo and tremble! I who have walked through the Valley of Death and eat guppies for breakfast! GROWWWWL!

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