How Many Goldfish Are Too Many?

I didn’t set out to cause an environmental disaster, but I guess nobody ever does

After letting myself in through the back gate and wading through the fading, overgrown winter grass to the pond, I stared into the impenetrable black water. My imagination transformed it into a clear, fresh water garden where fish and frogs frolicked and dragonflies buzzed through long summer days.

A break in the water made me jump. Something was alive in there.

Even though I wasn’t technically trespassing (the realtor was due any minute) I quick-strode my way back to the gate, all of a sudden concerned about what could be in tangle of weeds that passed for a back yard.

Even as I chided myself for being such a coward the swishing sound my jeans in the grass goosed me a bit. I was not the outdoorsy type.

The relator, a woman in her fifties with faded platinum hair sprayed into wave on top of her head looked too much like my high school guidance counselor. She wore big, round eyeglasses and pearls with her business suit. I didn’t like her immediately. I told her about the thing living in the pond out back.