After finally getting a nice day, after many wintery ones, I went outside to enjoy the sun. Walking around a little, I noticed something in the grass. I couldn’t make out what it was, so I walked over to it. To my surprise, it was a turtle. Not a small one, the size of a dinner plate.
As I stood here, wondering where in the world it came from, and where or what to do with it, a couple from the park walked by. I called to them and asked, “Do you know who I can call to find out where to take this turtle?”
The man got all excited. “You have a turtle?”
“Yes,” I said, and showed him.
He picked it up and held onto it, smiles all over his face. He showed his wife, and she, too, was surprised.
I was thinking of taking it inside and keeping it in the spare bathroom, in the tub. But then I thought of my cats. It would send them into wonderland, this new, alive, toy.
I decided it must belong to someone close by, but hadn’t a clue who it was.
After considering the mess I would have to clean up (outside of the cats) and the smell, I asked the man if he wanted it.
His eyes lit up like a little kid with a new toy. “Oh, yes!” he said. So I let him take it home, feeling fairly confident that the turtle would have a good home.
Even thought it was a short acquaintance, I found myself wondering about that turtle, thinking off and on that I should have kept it, but assuring myself that it was a good thing I didn’t.
Miss you turtle! (I think I would have named it Hector. Why? I haven’t a clue!).