And then a bit of a chat later, ten of them swam off to the Wahooligan's Aunt for a new life of luxury.
Auntie Wahooligan brought Wispas. Many Wispas. We like her!
It hasn't come a minute too soon. Forty Mollies en masse are a little alarming. As I walk past the tank they congregate in the corner nearest to me, gawping and gaping. I stand up on a stool; they swim to the top of the tank. I bend down to the medicine cabinet underneath; they swim to the bottom. I walk past; they swivel. It's off-putting.
And they've eaten most of the plant life, the four adults have died (but none of the other older fish, nor, as far as I can tell, any of the younger ones), and the filter impeller is blocking regularly. Mmm, clearing fish sludge out of propellers; a truly delightful way to spend a Saturday afternoon.
Mog's class are very happy; they spent the afternoon drawing big fish. Auntie Wahoo is very happy to be a parent as well as an Auntie. And I'm very happy; our feed bill should have halved!
So, if anyone else is interested, I'm open to offers. They don't have to be Wispas. I'll take straight Dairy Milk; I'm not proud.
Meanwhile, since this seems to be an animally post, an update on Grolly. She's had all but the final inch of her tail removed. This stump is definitely healthy, and despite the anaesthetic and op pain, she seems brighter than she was yesterday, jumping all around the sunoom and looking for a means of escape. And after a weekend with her imprisoned in the sunroom, I might be too - I've still not got all the poo out of the curtains from her last incarceration.