It's four forty-five in the morning, and I'm awake and starting up the computer to report that a miracle just happened to me. A literal miracle. And I'll tell you, I have a very strict definition of the word Miracle: a miracle, in my opinion, is when something happens that is completely impossible. In other words, I don't really believe in people experiencing miracles more than once in a lifetime.

I just had my once-in-a-lifetime, and if you've ever owned guppies, you'll understand why I'm calling it that.

This mini-story starts in july. Michael got me a little three-and-a-half gallon fish tank. I had too many guppies, so I was happy to move some of them into the little tank. Over the next couple months, my guppies, who are all from the same "litter" - I bought the mother, and she spawned them three days later, and then promptly died - slowly died out. It happens. This one got ick. That one got into a fight. Goddess knows why this one died. Guppies are amazingly difficult to keep alive - they're listed as easy because they keep repopulating, not cause they like to live long lives. Anyway, my guppies weren't mating. I have no idea why. But I don't have any new babies. Or at least, I didn't. Hold your horses, this isn't one of those "Miracle of birth" stories. I promise.

Anyway, the population declined over time. In september I abandoned the little fish tank, moving all the guppies - along with half of the water, and all the decorations - to the ten gallon. The population decline slowed to date.

I want you to think about that sad little tank beside my bed. Half-empty (I never got around to completely emptying it, which is not as gross as it sounds, because the water is STILL clear) with the bubbler floating listlessly in the stagnant water. The tank was no longer capable of supporting life, because with three exceptions that I know of (goldfish, bettas, and a cute little fish called a gourami) you MUST HAVE moving water to support fish life. The three I named have special gills that let them gulp actual air from the surface, but every other kind of fish MUST have moving, well-oxygenating water to survive for even an hour.

Empty and still for months. A barren environment.

This morning (or tonight, whatever) I got up to go to the bathroom, flipped on the light, and for some bizarre, sleep-drunk reason peered into my abandoned fishtank. And saw movement. Impossible.

A tiny little guppy fry was swimming around in the dead water. A LIVE fry. Needless to say, I flipped and moved it to the LIVING tank.

Which leaves a whole bunch of questions:

Where the hell did the fry come from? There's no way in HELL I'd miss an adult guppy and a whole bunch of fry for months. One, maybe, but this guppy wasn't old enough to have been born before I switched tanks. It's NOT a big tank. NO decorations, NO hiding spots. Round tank, perfectly clear water. What the hell?

How did it survive even for a day without oxygenated water? That's like a human baby surviving under the surface of the ocean for months. They simply don't have the equipment to pull oxygen from the surface, AKA actual air, and the water wasn't moving, so there was next to no oxygen in the water. MONTHS, with no POSSIBLE way it could have been getting oxygen that I can see.

What the hell was it eating? I certainly wasn't dropping food into what I thought was an empty tank! No plants, and I kept a clean tank, so there wasn't much algae. Do guppies even eat algae?

Impossible, for so many reasons. But I found a baby guppy in an abandoned fish tank the morning. And I'm naming it Skinny, cause it can't have had much to eat. I'm serious, guys. If you're one of my real-life friends, I'll SHOW you the little guy.

Impossible. What the hell?