Everybody's Got an Opinion

Have I mentioned that we have a turtle? Yes, in addition to the monster fish tank, we have a "little" 40-galloner at the top of the stairs containing one
clinically-depressed Russian Tortoise. He was a birthday present when Elan turned 3. He really wanted a dog but we live in an apartment and there was no way I was going to get one anyway considering I already have two perfectly good pups, so we settled for a turtle.

When I was a kid we had a California Box Turtle that lived for 13 years, and all we had to do was feed him a little corn or a strawberry every two weeks or so, throw in an occassional worm-snack after a rainy day, and he was fine. So I knew turtles were low-maintenance. Sometimes we would let him out for "walks" in the front yard, and most of my memories of him involve watching Helen, our live-in housekeeper/nanny scramble to find him, camoflauged and hidden in the bushes, before the sun had fully set.
Good times, good pet. We had a whole funeral for him when he finally passed on (may his memory be a blessing).

Anyway, that turtle's name was Herman, honoring the late and legendary Herman the 1st, the spunky turtle my father had as a child who would only accept kosher meat, which came at a premium. When it came time to name Elan's turtle, I wanted to go with something cool like Boris, or Vlad, out of respect to his heritage. Elan, however, really wanted to go with...Mister Turtley, "because he is all turtle-y". Who can argue with that logic?

Me. We argued. I insisted. He cried. Guess who won?

Elan quickly realized how boring Mr. Turtley really is, and lost interest. He's at school all day anyway, so I'm pretty much in charge of the damn thing now. Can I just tell you that this is the most irritating reptile on the planet? For starters, he likes to be fed a minimum of 5 times a week--not once every two. And what does he need to eat? G-d forbid should it be anything that I would normally just have in the pantry! No, it's high-quality greens or nothing, like romaine lettuce, mustard greens, dandelion greens...at least that's what they told us at the pet store. In actuality, he hates dandelion greens, mustard greens, collard greens, etc. and favors fancy green- or red-leaf lettuce, which I can only find at Ralph's, a place with beautiful produce that generally costs an arm and a leg.

Next: how do I know when he's hungry? Because he does a SUICIDE MARCH up in that tank where he tries his hardest to climb up the walls and throw himself out and it sounds like someone is smashing furniture over their head upstairs. I'll be knee-deep in website coding when I'll suddenly hear "BANG-BANG-BANG-CLOMP-CLOMP-BANG-BOOM-BAM-BOOM!!!!!" and I'll have to run to the fridge, rinse and chop his lettuce and throw it into his foodtray while he looks at me threateningly, like "I'm gonna do it!! I can't take it anymore! I am so bored and I hate it here and on top of that I am effing STARVING and I'm going over! I swear, I am just ending it all because I am DONE WITH THIS KIND OF LIFE!!" More than once I've had a client here and they're like uh...is someone upstairs? Is everything ok because there is quite a racket coming from up there and I go oh yeah it's just our turtle and I'm off running.

Halfway through scarfing it down Mr. T. just falls asleep amid the pile of greenery, mouth half-open with a leaf hanging out like he was just so wiped out from the emotional highs and lows of his day that he couldn't even eat without taking a little nap.

When I tell Y all of this, begging him to let me get rid of the animal so I can work in peace, he gets this condescending smile on his face and says, "You know what I think, sweetie? I think you are clearly very invested in this turtle to have thought so much about what he must be thinking, and maybe, just maybe- that means you love him? He's really yours now, after all. And I happen to think you're crazy about him."

I'm reminded of how taking care of our Airdale always became my mother's responsibility when my brothers and I were little, how she ended up doing all of the walking and feeding, and he loved her the most of any of us, and she would complain and ask for help but then you'd see her being so tender with him when she thought no one was looking and you knew that she really, genuinely grew to love him from caring for him so dilligently.

I do NOT love Mr. Turtley. Y is dead-wrong. I could never see him again and be perfectly happy. I think Theresa, the woman who helps me with Ariel while I work, senses my general disdain by how I've learned to ignore the suicide march and so she has taken it upon herself to feed him and coo to him on the days she's here.

Do you think she loves him? And if so, might she want to keep him?