Before the red fish came along, no toy of mine was safe. Whenever I got angry, toy trucks, plastic guns, and just about anything else I owned ended up broken.

Then I got a hard plastic red fish.

Whenever my temper flared, I’d grab that fish and whack it against a fence post or telephone pole.

Unlike all my other toys, the red fish never broke. It just picked up a few scratches and kept on going.

Looking back, that tough little red fish survived my bad moods better than anything else I owned. In the end, it outlasted my temper.