Today, Toady. Tomorrow, the World!
We do not have an aquarium in the conventional sense of possessing tanks. Neither do we really have a pond that has been lusciously landscaped into the garden/outdoors. Instead, we have a bricked up rectangular area that has valves et al to function as a pond.
In this pond are kept my partner's bettas* and my two plecos. And in this pond too have many a common toad couple made love and laid their eggs, to the detriment of both the existing fish and their keepers. Toads are BAAAAD NEWS. They're poisonous to the fish. And well, you really don't want to be greeted with a million toady tadpoles which will affect the fish and fry (I have mentioned the partner's bettas' propensity to breed continuously).
Added to that, I am frrrrrrreaked out by amphibians. I believe that everything is God's creation, but that doesn't easily translate into a Mother Nature all-embracing attitude towards living beings. Not in my case. Amphibians. Just saying the word is equivalent to cursing for me.
Newts, salamanders, frogs, toads. How unsavoury these characters are to me. I cannot deal with them! These d@#N toads who have decided to dance the choreography of amplexus in our pond. The sheer arrogance! The bloody cheek of them all.
In Malay, they (and their frog cousins) are merely called "katak", which is one of the more onomatopoeic words in that language. If you've listened to toads/frogs calling out for love, you could possibly identify with the sound of "katak". Say it quickly and repeat a hundred times in increasing frequency.
Despite their unsavouriness, I tend to veer towards the Buddhist/King Solomon practice of never harming animals so the option left to us is to exercise a "foreign policy" to this 'ethnic' group. Expatriation, or would it be more precise to term it as "repatriation", even "extradition".
The usual episode would unfold where the kataks are katak-ing, katak-ing in a way that would never refer to the elegance of one of the Indian Subcontinent's dance of storytelling. The partner's ears would prick up; the senses are on full alert [DEFCON1], so much so that even deep slumber could be shrugged aside. Then comes the frenzy of torchlight sweeps - spotting the enemy. Target locked on, the partner armed with a net and cardboard, proceeds to carry out his mission. We have moved, migrated all toads which have approached the pond or even jumped into the pond. The number of toads displaced (and even more so as the climactic problems are screwing up their seasonal mating sense, or so I conjecture) should equate to a ToaDiaspora. Someday, subaltern histories will be written on this locale where toads in the "mood for love**" have been unceremoniously booted.
Tonight though, the partner is deeply asleep, and I loathe to rouse him to perform his duty; to defend the pond against these amourous amphibians. He needs his rest; it's an important day for him tomorrow (er, later today) and he would need focus. The toads have been singing all night and their siren song has drawn me in. I will be the one to enforce the foreigning-the-toad policy. Oh yes, I will be the immovable unreasonable agent of all Immigration & Customs checkpoints and banish the toads, dismissing their intention to propagate survival of their species. They will not be granted the special status of Diplomatic Immunity, they will not be conferred the UNHCR status of refugee.
Tonight, I will have the courage to "just say no!" to the toads. Their mating calls have reached the Quitline+ and my will is refreshed.
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I did just that. I, plecokeeper of Siglap, asserted my right to protect the pond and picked up a toad and showed her the way out to a nice big longkang++ elsewhere. I feel good. I faced fear. The fishes have been protectd. We should not need to be visited by the unpleasant incident of morning deaths. I did well. I did good...I...
I bloody ran home (we really do banish the toads), dropped the net, screamed in my head (I'm aware enough still of other housemates sleeping) and locked the doors.
I never want to do this again.
The night is silent, and holy again.
*bettas refer to fighting fish, usually associated to the Siamese fighting fish
**Yes, I am a fan of Wong Kar Wai. Have I mentioned my fantasy at being able to pull off cheongsams (Chinese garb for ladies) a la Maggie Cheung?
+ Quitline refers to a Singapore government scheme to aid those who wish to end their smoking careers. I am always wary of government schemes. A non-repentant, recalcitrant smoker, so to speak.
++ Malay for "drains"
