The big clean up

I'd let it go too long.  The water was significantly lower than it should be and the algae had coated the inside of the tank.  Problem was it was a big job and I just couldn't bring myself to find the time to do it.
Finally, when I was overwhelmed by guilt, I did.  I took the goldfish out of the tank and set to work.
I used the gravel vacuum.  I scrubbed the glass.  I washed the tank ornaments and even replaced the plants.  I also took care not to completely change the water.  I tried to leave enough to keep the tank in balance, but as I took the water out, the crap in the gravel got stirred up and there was much more of it than I'd expected.  I guess that's what happens when you have goldfish, the poopingest fish in the universe, and little boys who sometimes overfeed them when you aren't looking.  And when you put off cleaning the tank far too long.  Far. Too. Long.
After the clean up, I let the filter work for a bit and made sure the water cleared before I put Goldy and Spotty back in the tank.  And they seemed happy for a bit.  For about two days really.  Then they didn't seem so happy.  Unfortunately I'd caused too much disturbance in their tank and even after I removed them to a "hospital tank" they were unable to recover.  Both of them died.
I hid the bodies since they died at night, had to decide what to tell the boys.  If anything.  I considered the great stealth fish swap, but honestly, the idea of it was too much for me.  The tears and emotion involved in losing a pet, even as minor as a goldfish, are hard for me to take and Little Dog seemed to be very attached to his Spotty.  And I thought maybe it was time to move to a more sustainable type of fish.  Something that isn't off the charts in poop production.  Something that doesn't need a bigger tank in the near future.  I spent the next day trying to decide what to do, and feeling pretty guilty about killing the fish, even if I was trying to do a good thing. 
I did a little research and decided that the best thing to do was tell the truth.  Then we'd replace the fish with something else.  Guppies and aquatic frogs.  Smaller. Cleaner.  Easier to care for.  I also decided I'd upgrade some of the tank equipment to make the maintenance a bit easier since in my research I discovered that I'd probably been getting less out of my filter than I'd expected.
I set up the tank and made sure the water was properly established.  We got the tiny aquatic frogs and the guppies- which are surprisingly beautiful and active.  So far so good.  Though I am obsessively checking the water quality, which is probably good for them but is definitely turning into a compulsive behavior for me.  And if they weren't so hard to photograph, I'd post a photo.  But they are, so I'm going to leave this up to your imagination.

Update:  Manged to snap a picture of at least one of the guppies and another of one of the frogs. 
 

Giuseppi the guppy

Dwarf frog- hard to know which one.

I'm sorry I called you an asshole

Today we lost a friend. Well, if a fish can be a friend. Goldy the fish decided that Independence Day was a nice day to die. Unlike the movie, she did not die fighting off alien life forms. She just made one last trip the the bottom of the tank. Mr. Dog found her. He gave me the knowing parent nod that means, "guess you're going to PetCo" and kept the boys occupied so I could make the fish run.

Unfortunately they caught me sneaking off to the car and asked what I was doing. I used the tried and true "I have an errand to run" excuse, but they weren't satisfied with that simple answer. They wanted details. In a moment of panic, I came up with a pathetic lie. "I have to get the dogs a surprise! It's an old tradition on 4th of July, dogs get surprises!" Lame, right? Sadly that's the best I could come up with. But the boys bought it and I was able to make the swap.

The new Goldy is about the right size and seems healthy and active. I'll give her a few days before I am completely convinced she'll survive. As they always say, the first days are the hardest. At some point I'm going to have to start leveling with Big Dog about fish mortality, but not right now. I'm on vacation. And with his current death obsession it would be more than I could handle. That's right, I'm being selfish, I'm not ready to cope, so I'm clamming up. If you have to take my Awesome Mommy gold star away, so be it. Wait, I never had one of those to start with. Probably due to shit like this. Whatever.

The things moms do

Last night when the boys were feeding their fish at bedtime we noticed that Goldy was listlessly sitting on the bottom of the tank. She wasn't dead. She'd move if you put your hand on the side of the tank where she was "resting", but from her floppy, sinky behavior I thought she might be on her way out.

Big Dog noticed her odd behavior, and asked what was wrong. Though I honestly had no idea, I told him it was probably related to my decision to turn off the tank heater. (Before you get all "goldfish don't need a tank heater, they're cold water fish" you need to understand my house is uninsulated and the lower level frequent ices over to the point we have to chip our way into the bedrooms with an icepick. Ok that might be a slight exaggeration, but only slight.) I'd made the decision to turn it off after a few warmish days in Seattle combined with the tank heater pushed the tank temperature to near 80 degrees which is too hot for goldfish. They're cold water fish after all. Why didn't I just adjust the temperature? I'll be honest with you, I tried but it seems the tank heater is smarter and more wily than I am, and I couldn't figure it out so I resorted to the brute force method of control and unplugged it. Anyhow, the water temperature when Goldy was acting...um, fishy (in a bad way) was about 55 degrees. Lower than recommended, but not fatal.

And after all that information you really wanted has derailed this narrative, I'll get back on track. So while I told Big Dog she was just cold, I was also worried that she was reacting badly to the tank cleaning I just did a few days ago. I checked the water with the dipstick test and it was all in the "safe" range. Phew. But still, there she was, resting in the tank gravel or swimming awkwardly about when roused. I tried to display an outward cool, but inside I was a bit panicky.

One thing I have learned by getting the boys fish is that I could never be a spy. My stealth replacements of past Goldies and Spotties nearly gave me a heart attack. I am not sly or especially graceful in my covert activities. So as I sat there watching this unhappy fish, I just silently asked the powers that govern household pets to not let Goldy die while Big Dog was sleeping. If she had to pass, let her do it while he was out of the house. That way I could zip off to the pet store and replace her before he got home from school. (Go ahead and judge me. I'm not being deceptive to protect Big Dog's gentle soul, I'm doing it because I am in no way mentally ready to discuss the fate of his beloved fish right this very moment.)

After the boys fell asleep, I went back upstairs to do research. Ok, really I went back upstairs to see how the season finale of Lost ended, but I also did some research online while watching the Jack and Sawyer show and then long after. I found one diagnosis site that suggested swim bladder disease, treatment, fast your fish but give them chopped frozen peas. (weird) Another suggested general distress borough on by eating chunks of crap stirred up from the gravel cleaning in the tank. No real treatment, just a general "don't stir up crap while you clean the gravel in your tank" warning. Still another site suggested adding salt to the tank if your fish look stressed, but make sure it isn't iodized and has no other additives. They gave a dose for goldfish and though it made me worry slightly, I decided I'd go ahead and do it. I mean, she looked like she was at death's door anyhow.

By this time it's almost 1 am, so I head off to bed. On the way I double check my kosher salt to verify it meets the salt requirements. I measure the dose into a small cup and leave it on the stove to be added to the tank in the morning. All of this time, I'm trying to come up with the right words to explain Goldy's death, should she be floating when Big Dog woke up.

This morning I woke up and went to check on my patient. The little fucker was swimming about the tank, happy as ever. She was just messing with me. Goldy, you're an asshole.