It
started out like just about any other day.
Cool enough for a nice walk around the neighborhood. Beautiful skies. Just a perfect day. Who could have foreseen the horrifying turn
of events that was about to transpire?
Certainly not us. All we wanted
to do was take a walk. A simple
walk. What could go wrong?
We
left the house and stepped into the street, chatting about the days and weeks
ahead, of Chris’ back pain, and of the possible journeys we might embark upon
when the nationwide quarantine is finally lifted completely. A quick turn to our right brought us out from
behind our parked truck. And there in
the street, firmly establishing a bastion, was something so unexpected, so out
of place for our quaint little city neighborhood, that my jaw dropped. I felt my finger rising in an unsteady
point. It was … a turtle. A rather large one, too. At least eight inches in length. His head and legs were both out, as if poised
for battle, ready for anything this new territory might throw at him.
Curiouser
and curiouser. Slowly we approached the
beast, careful not to spook him. What
was he doing here? Where had he come from? There are no natural ponds in the immediate
area. Did a tourist pick him up and then
think better of keeping him and release him on their way out of town? Or had he been summarily dismissed from his
family back at the pond, harshly thrown from the family unit because of a
failed coup attempt against the tribal head?
Or perhaps he was simply the adventurous type, out for a longer stroll
that usual. Whatever his reasoning, he
was in danger where he was currently basking.
So of course he had to be moved.
That’s
where I came in. Being the brave knight
that I am, I volunteered for the arduous task of getting the critter out of the
line of traffic. Simple, right? I ambled over and behind the fellow, careful
to avoid his wide-open mouth. Slowly I bent
from the waist, both arms outstretched in anticipation. Closer.
Closer. And just as I made my
first gentle brush of skin upon shell, the turtle took off running. I don’t mean slowly inching away like one
might expect based on cartoon depictions.
Oh no. Not this turtle. This turtle had probably been raised near a
nuclear power plant or had been bitten by a radioactive spider or maybe had been
raised in the sewer with no restrictions on growth and development. This turtle was … fast.
Not
to be outdone by a turtle, however, I raced to catch up, still bent at the
waist with arms still outstretched, waddling back and forth like a drunken
penguin. Chris was not helping. In fact as I recall, she was incapable of
coming to my assistance at the time. No,
not because of her recent back issues.
It was because she was too busy laughing at the spectacle in front of
her. Fortunately, my super-speed waddle
proved too much for the racing turtle.
Even more fortunately, it all happened so fast that Chris was not able
to get any of it on video. Did I mention
… that turtle was fast?
Safely
secured, we left the critter in the capable hands of our neighbor Brennan. He promised to care for it until such time as
his Daddy deemed it necessary to return it to a more suitable habitat, should
such a habitat not begin to miraculously appear in their back yard. He has already begun research. It seems to be a red-eared slider. Why?
Because it has … red ears. Or at
least red stripes where ears should be.
Do turtles even have ears? Oh,
and it has a name now … Strawberry. Strawberry,
the Wonder Turtle. I foresee a great future
for Strawberry. Perhaps at the race
track. Or I hear Donatello is getting
older …
Deuteronomy
30:16 says, “For I command you today to
love the Lord your God, to walk in obedience to him, and to keep his commands,
decrees and laws; then you will live and increase, and the Lord your God will
bless you in the land you are entering to possess.”
Father,
take care of Strawberry, wherever he ends up.
Thank you for all the critters you have created. It is fun to encounter them. Amen.
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