For the Love of a Turtle

It all started a few years back when I was at the beach and feeling kind of bummed out.  I walked into a small chachki shop and there was a tank full of baby turtles.  They were awesome.  And only $18.  The guy told me they were like goldfish; they'll only grow as big as the bowl you put them in.  They ate fish food and were very easy to take care of.

This was all false.  I got my red eared slider home and found out they require a special turtle diet.  A tank with 10 gallons of water for each inch of their carapace.  Heated water.  Land, especially for female turtles (which mine was.)  UV rays via a lamp.  And a pretty hefty filter.  I had the money.  I was annoyed, but took care of her.  Because I loved her.

I bought her aquarium decorations to play in.  She destroyed them.  I bought her minnows to eat.  She had one, then kept the other one as a friend for months until one day she decided to send it to its unfortunate end by swatting it into the filter.  Oh, and the filters?  I couldn't just replace the cartridges.  She destroyed an entire filter about once a month.

I think she was happy.  She loved the boyfriend.  I can say that without a doubt.  She was just always following her instinctual drive to try to find an escape route.  It was costing us a pretty penny.  Our budget got slimmer.  Our time to devote to her grew less.  We had to do the right thing.

I took her to the Humane Society last month.  I put my finger to her tank and she followed it one last time.  I was in tears.  Yes, over a turtle.  She's been with me for five crazy years seeing me through ups and downs.  She's capable of living past my own likely expiration date.  I thought we'd always be together.  While she never showed the affection of more commonly domesticated pets, her presence also didn't cost me a security deposit or a hike in rent.  She was perfect for me, until she wasn't anymore.

I keep trying to call the humane society to check up on her.  They don't put turtles down unless they're seriously sick.  So even though I can't get through (I took her to the original Humane Society, so they're always busy,) I'm confident that she's okay.  And even though it hurts to part ways, I know it's better for her to have people who are capable of taking the absolute best care for her.

I have a feeling she's done a lot better than her siblings that went home from that beach shop with eight year old kids and unsuspecting parents in a fish bowl.