Last night I came across a fish on the footpath near my house. Over the past year living here, I’ve run into (and tried not to step on) countless snails, toads, and lizards. People have warned me about snakes, but I haven’t seen one yet. And I have never expected to encounter a fish — fish inhabit bodies of water, and paths are not part of those. And yet, there it was: a fish, lying in the middle of the path.

I decided to move the fish from the path into the puddle. First, I figured it might suffocate without water. Second, one of the stray dogs — the ones the neighbours feed — might eat it. Third, it could get run over by a motorcycle. In short, I was concerned for the fish’s life.

I picked two leaves off a bush to use like napkins, and lifted the fish off the ground. The fish suddenly slipped out of my hands, flopped back down, and wriggled into the puddle — exactly where I’d meant to put it. So, nothing worked, and everything worked.

* * *

Most likely, it was a snakehead (Channa). Snakeheads live in still water, can breathe air, and are capable of moving between ponds over land. It’s been raining heavily since last night here in Hong Kong — which probably explains how the fish ended up in our little frog pond. Saving a snakehead from suffocating was an act of ignorance — but saving it from a dog or a motorcycle made perfect sense.