"Betta Watch Out"

By Jerry Zezima

If Steven Spielberg made a movie about the killer fish that lives in my house, he’d have to call it “Gums.”

That’s because the aggressive little betta that swims in a plastic bowl on the liquor cabinet, which leads me to believe that it drinks like a fish, has no teeth but still wants to devour me.

Every morning, when I drop a food pellet into its watery confines, the fish leaps up and grabs my index finger. Maybe I should give it the adjacent finger.

Anyway, I was recently told by a pleasant “animal specialist” named Alisha, who works at the pet store where I bought the fish, that bettas “don’t have much of a brain.”

John Williams’ memorable score for “Jaws” — dumb-dumb, dumb-dumb, dumb-dumb, dumb-dumb — ran through my brain.

I went to the store to find out two things: (a) if I actually have a toothless piranha and (b) how old it is.

Camilla, the fish’s name, even though it is a male (more on this in a moment), has probably set the Zezima family record as the oldest fish.

As I dimly recall, which is how I recall most things these days because I’m no spring betta, we got Camilla three years ago.

There is no adoption date in the store’s records because they go back only 30 days, which is the average life span of the dozens of fish we have had since my two adult daughters were kids.

The standouts were Moe and Larry, who died within minutes of each other, probably in a suicide pact, and their surviving bowl mate, Curly, who lived for months afterward but was tragically killed by a bottle of vitamins that fell into the water from a kitchen cabinet and conked him on the noggin, but without the Three Stooges sound effects.

“You killed our fish!” my then-young daughters wailed.

As a concerned and loving father, I tried to console them with words of comfort: “They were Mommy’s vitamins.”

Fast-forward one generation: My two oldest grandchildren, who are sisters with a fish of their own, wanted me and my wife, Sue, to get a fine finny friend for our house.

Thus did we buy the original Camilla, a female we placed in what I called the Camilla Parker Bowl.

The girls didn’t get it.

The fish lasted 48 hours, so I got another Camilla that was a look-alike male, proving that some fish are gender-fluid. He lived for about six months and was very friendly, by which I mean he didn’t try to have me for breakfast.

We have had a succession of equally nice if somewhat dim Camillas, all males.

This one is the exception. He has lasted the longest. He’s also the meanest.

“Maybe he’s trying to kiss you,” suggested Alisha, adding that alpha male bettas try to act tough but often just want to play.

Alisha, who is 22, has three cats, a guinea pig, a bearded dragon and a dog but no fish.

“I had eels when I was younger,” she said, adding that Camilla isn’t particularly old for a betta. “He could last for another five years,” she said. “I know people who have had fish for 10 or 11 years.”

William, a sales associate at the store, is 18 and has had fish since he was 6.

“Right now I have two clownfish and a cleaner shrimp,” he said.

“Cleaner than what, the clownfish?” I asked.

“And,” William added, “I have a tank with one betta fish and a couple of Neocaridina shrimp.”

Bettas, he said, are an aggressive type of fish.

“Yours could think you’re food,” William said.

“You mean like the shark in ‘Jaws’?” I wondered nervously.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Uh-oh,” I said. “I’m gonna need a bigger bowl.”

Copyright 2026 by Jerry Zezima