I was at the pet store stocking up on dog and cat food yesterday and the young man in front of me at the checkout was purchasing a beautiful exotic fish. It was in a little plastic bag, like they all seem to be when they leave the store — its long, colorful, flowing fins were clearly visible through the opaque packaging. I complimented him on his choice and he turned around, smiled and became animated, telling me about his multiple fish tanks, the different residents of each, and how he hoped to someday breed them. In the meantime he said, he watches them. He went on to say that he has a very stressful job and that sitting quietly and watching the fish at the end of the day, for him is meditative. “This is my addiction,” he said. Fish therapy. Not such a bad addiction.