I never knew a darned thing about turtles. That is until, you know who.
After the guinea pigs no longer satiated his need for wildlife-suburbia style, he wanted a turtle.
Always the long-suffering optimist, I thought this would entail a glass bowl, with a rock, plastic palm tree and turtle.
A turtle could not eat or go to the bathroom that much because, look how big they are, the size of a quarter? OK, even two turtles would be super easy. They float and don't make any noise. Turtles do not bark, chew up your shoes or swat you just for the hell of it. After the dogs, cats and infamous cage fiasco, this was going to be a piece of cake. Heck, I probly won't even notice we have turtles.
Yea, that's right. I noticed.
Chase came home with one turtle. Then curiously rescued another later in the week, so two turtles it is, Ricky and Lucy.
Turtles swim in a tank of water and use the rock for sunning. I was correct about the eating and defecating ratio but did not consider algae build up and odor. What never entered the thought process about owning turtles, is that they would consider, every move I make. I notice the turtles and they notice me.
Turtles are voyeurs and living in a glass house makes watching easy to do. Moving about my busy day any time I turn in the room with the turtles, four steely eyes are staring me down like "yea, here she comes again, what's she gonna do now?" Reptiles show no emotion. So the little beady eyes just pivot and dart, whichever way I go.
And always, without fail, from the moment she landed in the tank, the redback, Lucy, sits on the greenback turtle. If he swims she swims. When he suns she suns. And of course, they share the ever ending watchfulness. One pair of eyes on top of the other, lookin at me.
Some Saturday while folding laundry the turtles catch my eye. With Sting singing "every move you make" in my head, I test them. Leering back, they are vigilant as my hands move with each fold of the clothes. Stretching towards a cabinet slightly out of their view, Ricky too angled towards the cabinet, taking Lucy with him. She is an attentive mate from her attachment on top.
They watch me walk in. They watch me walk out. They oversee everything I do. Like it is not enough, my mother is watching from down the street.
Turtles grow, albeit slowly. The day came when I convinced Chase it was time to set them free, even though they are family. After four years, I take my visual companions to the small lake on Mother and dad's property. With freedom in sight, they have no idea how their world is about to change.
Ricky the turtle has one view in his paradigm. Until this pending moment, he could swim up twelve inches, down twelve inches and side to side for about the same.
The four years of his whole life, he had a little girl turtle above him. The redback was loyal every day, all day, night and day. Miss Lucy never left the top of his shell. Granted, not much going on in the 'gettin lucky' department for Ricky, since she never got off his back. Yet, she is dependable just the same.
Excited for their future, I kneel at the water's edge. Sun rays slice the gleaming pond as I gently turn the bucket on its side. In a split second , faster than the blink of my eye, she was gone! GONE. I couldn't believe it.
As Ricky landed in the water he started to sink slowly and in a literal flash, little Lucy redback was gone. History. She simply took off, as if she had been fantasizing this moment for four years. Her tiny legs flew across the pond's surface to get away. No swimming was involved.
So much for the loyal mate. Nice. Hell, I thought she liked being up there. When in fact, she just had nothing better to do.
Ricky looked up, disoriented for sure. After several seconds of floating downward, trying to get a grip on the situation, he decided to swim. Cranking his neck to look at me one last time, his intense eyes spoke loud and clear.
OK, who the hell moved the bottom? And where'd the bitch go?
