...like turtles and big dogs.
Yesterday, the kids came off the bus all smiles. We were chatting about their days, and when we got inside I sent them upstairs to change for the studio and the dojo while I started signing the six million things I sign every night. Life was good. Then I hear Issa's sweet voice, "Mom, Neela, has a turtle on the landing!"
"It can't be a turtle. It's probably just a rock or a toy."
"Nope. It's a turtle, and it's bleeding."
Awesome. That got me moving.
Soon, we had freed the turtle from Neela's jaws, and it was clear he was alive. I know because when I peeked in his little shell he hissed. I was also able to determine that while he was missing a pinky toe he otherwise seemed just fine. So...we decided to relocate him to the culvert under our driveway. I figured he could safely recover and then crawl away from there. And, if I was wrong and he was not long for the world, he would be a tasty snack for some critter and I wouldn't have to bury him. Sometimes I'm pragmatic.
Unfortunately, Neela was not on board with this idea. When we opened the front door and headed out, she bolted out, too. Now, I have a bleeding, angry turtle in my hands and a big dog running loose like she's never been outside before. She was doing giant crazy puppy circles through the neighbor's yard, and the small herd of children trying to chase her were not exactly helping her settle--and I can't set the turtle down or she will come charging to get her new toy. It was not a stellar moment.
Thankfully, Issa finally got a hold of Neela and got her in, and I settled the turtle in his safe place. When we came home last night, he had already scooted away, but I'm really hoping I never see his little turtle face on my landing again,
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