We have kept a leopard moray eel in a marine aquarium for a long time. She is now nearly 40 inches long. Her body, with a white background, is interspersed with plum-shaped black markings, resembling a tiger's pattern.
When hungry, she becomes restless in the tank, moving up and down, back and forth, hiding and emerging, looking pitiful and in need of help. Sometimes, she stretches her head out of the saltwater, her body stiff, looking like an SA missile ready to launch.
After a full meal, she becomes very quiet. Her dorsal fin stands stiff like a wall, and her body color is strikingly attractive.
Most of the time, she sleeps bent double inside a large tube about 15 centimeters in diameter. She always sleeps with her eyes open. Besides this, she sometimes lies down as if sleeping like a human. Occasionally, she plays by herself in the tank, wagging her tail like a dog in a grassy field or moving her head like a dolphin playing with a ball at the zoo.
Every morning when she sees me approach, her excitement reminds me of Chinese children seeing their parents return home from shopping, thrilled because they've brought their favorite treats.
"Calm down! I'll feed you in a couple of minutes," I tell her. But she can't help herself; she stretches her head about six inches out of the water, her two small eyes circling to follow my hand.
After feeding, she truly calms down. Look! Half of her body is in the tube, half stays out, reminding me of a Chinese slang: "Scales east and paws west" (meaning disorganized or at sixes and sevens).