In my mind, there are two types of people: Walmart people and Target people, and yes, this is the post about the pet.

I have cast my lot and a lot of cash with the latter group. The fact that there are two new SuperTargets opening in very close proximity to my house in the next month is of such monumentous importance that it is marked out in red sharpie on all three of my calendars. Target is my friend, and I’m elated that she is moving into the neighborhood.

Target people are seriously smart people, because when I go into Target I want to buy everything. As opposed to when I go to Walmart and my only desire is to flee. I want to find the quickest and safest route in and out of there before I’m shrinked wrapped, stickered and crammed onto a shelf buckling under the weight of soup cans, canning jars, can openers and Can-can dolls.

Since Target believes in white space, order, and general cleanliness, it occasionally does not offer an item that I am in need of. Only after scourging through a minimum of three Targets, will I brave an outing to Walmart.

Now I am aware that some of you live in areas where there are no Targets. While I am truly sorry for you, I am told that Walmarts in these places can be very “nice.” Let me assure you that these nice sorts of Walmarts exist in my community the same way badgers and giants do. Our Walmarts are of the variety that I have so far described.

I don’t remember what item led me to Walmart last Thursday, but this post is about the items that left with us. Now remember this was the period of melting butter and I was in a befuddled state of confusion. This confusion was apparently compounded by the chaos that is Walmart, because somewhere between the fabric section and paint department I decided that the perfect thing for my siblingless child who doesn’t even have fresh food at home would be a fish.

Not just one fish, but three fish.

And since Walmart does reserve half a row to aquariums of discounted fish, we were able to pick out 3 goldfish, a fish bowl, colored rocks, a plant, water neutralizer, a net, and fish food for a roll-back savings of $9.67.

With the kind assistance of a disgruntled Wal-man, Ava selected three fish, a bright orange one whom she appropriately named, Graper. And two small white ones with orange speckles , who assummed the names, Hannah and Mariah.

The Wal-man handed Ava her bag o’ fish. She clenched it to her chest and exclaimed, “They’re never going to die, Mama. They’re not going to die! I’m not going to let them die.”

And since goldfish have the life expectancy of months, why would anyone be concerned about Ava’s new attachment.

During Graper, Hannah, and Mariah’s first hours under Ava’s care, she set up a home for them in her bedroom–”They have to sleep with me, Mama. I’m their Mama and they will miss me if they don’t sleep with me.”

She called her daddy at work to tell him the good news–”I have three pets, Daddy. I have more pets than Scott and Gia-hue. They only have two dogs, right Daddy?”

She also called all of her grandparents to inform the of her new charges–”I have three fish and they’re beautiful. See,” she said as she held the cell phone up to the bag.

The first three days were all smiles.

Sunday morning we woke up to the most dreadful stench. Ava’s room smelled like docks at the marina. I put my nose over the bowl and nearly threw up on Graper.

The fish bowl instructions had recommended changing the water once a week. This water was definitely not going to make it to next Thursday. I immediately scooped the fish out and sent the offending water down the drain.

Within a couple hours the fish were back in Ava’s room swimming in sparkling, clear water. And Ava resumed her role as the fish’s best friend. She faithfully fed them, sang to them, and blew them fish-kisses through the glass.

By Tuesday morning foul stench had returned. And when we came home that night, Graper and Hannah were rolled back, and Mariah was blowing her last bubbles.

Six Days, People! Six Days!

I shrouded our dead pets in a white, J. Crew bag and stuck them in the back hall. As God is my witness, I was not going to flush down Ava’s first pets.

I had a mind to put them in a ziplock bag and bring them and my fists back to Walmart, but luckily for all of us Uncle Moose and JP stopped over.

Uncle Moose played hide-and-seek with Ava, while JP permanently hid the fish and I started a piggy bank to pay for Ava’s therapy or her next pet.

Unless they can roll her fish back from the dead, Walmart is dead to me.