The Metaphor of the Pet Fish

Try to pull a life lesson or sophisticated metaphor out of this:

At the beginning of this semester my brother agreed to take care of three guppies when a girl he hardly knew said her landlord wouldn't let her have them. So, we, or should I say I, ended up caring for these fish. I kept their tank clean, changed their water, fed them, and did all the normal fish care essentials. Unfortunately, I had to leave for winter break. While I gorged myself in holiday dinners and moped around my parent's house, the fish were back at school, all alone. I told a friend of mine to feed them and water my plants, and thought not much of it.

Then I returned. One of the fish was dead. Another was doing strange acrobatics and water Tae Bo that led me to believe he was also near the end of his days with us. A few days later he died. They were of course given their due respect with a proper fish burial, involving a net and a toilet. So now I have one fish. He has remained chipper, and one might even say "plucky." He eats well, swims well, and seems to enjoy being the king of his domain. 

So I suppose my question is this: Which fish are you? 

Are you like my last remaining fish who held on with faith until after the master returned and still lives in harmony on his fish throne?

or

Are you the fish who died before his return?

or

Are you the fish who held out long enough to see the master, do some stupid tricks to either save yourself or impress me, and then die shortly thereafter?

Welcome to the Beach house!

Welcome to the beach house. 

We (my brother and I), have renamed our house to remind us of our homeland. The beach house. We have tropical plants, shells, shell mobiles, framed postcards of tropical beaches, surfboards, sweet posters of surfing, sailing, and tropical oases, a solar-powered fake stained glass fish lawn ornament in the window, a fish tank, and we are just now considering filling the fireplace with sand. Seeing as a sand-filled fireplace might be messy, we'll probably just make a custom sandbox to fit in front of the fireplace, and put hermit crabs in it. Contractually we aren't allowed to have pets, but I hardly think it fair to call hermit crabs or fish pets (depending on the fish or hermit crab I suppose). Hermit crabs are ornamental pets. They hardly move, and when they do it's usually a life changing event for all involved. 

Fish on the other hand are also mostly decorative, and at least to me are only exciting when they are aggressive or ill-tempered.

Now perhaps you ask why we decided on making it a 'beach house'. Well, we are in possibly one of the most land-locked states possible in the union. Surrounded by mountains, desert, stupid people, and occasional livestock and wild bears, 

Utah has fenced us in. But, our souls are escaping through our homestead. The ocean lives in the walls, in the bathroom, and now, even in the fireplace (kinda freaky for newcomers who need to visit the lou).