Today at work a guy brought in a nice fat full grown male convict to give away. I said I'd take him, so I put him in the back in a bucket. Half an hour later, I go back to check on him. The convict was laying right beside the bucket. He was stiff and crispy. I plunged him back into the bucket, but it was too late. I tossed him in the garbage, crushed that I had let such a beautiful fish slip away.
Five minutes later, I tell the girl I work with that Mr. Convict committed suicide. She goes in the back, takes the con from the garbage can, and put him in a specimen cup full of water. THE FISH STARTS BREATHING. I was shocked. This fish has been out of water for nearly 40 minutes. He WAS dead.
Twenty minutes later, I run home on my lunch break and put him into my new 30 gal, which houses a lone crawdad. He couldn't be any better. I'm just shocked that this fish came back from the dead. Wow.
Five minutes later, I tell the girl I work with that Mr. Convict committed suicide. She goes in the back, takes the con from the garbage can, and put him in a specimen cup full of water. THE FISH STARTS BREATHING. I was shocked. This fish has been out of water for nearly 40 minutes. He WAS dead.
Twenty minutes later, I run home on my lunch break and put him into my new 30 gal, which houses a lone crawdad. He couldn't be any better. I'm just shocked that this fish came back from the dead. Wow.
