A Young Boy and His Pets

My parents always had a dog, but they had Melana (from Greek for “black”) probably longer than they had me. They got her from some armed forces folks who’d gotten her in the Tinian Islands (probably misspelled). But she was always their dog more than mine.

Instead I satisfied myself with a child’s variety of snakes, frogs, and turtles.

At one time in my pre-teen years I wanted to become a herpetologist–a zoologist specializing in reptiles and amphibians. I have no idea what I thought that kind of work might involve, but I was positive it would surround me with my favorite animals.

The garage always had a jar or two with punctured lids for air and small snakes, one of which managed to shed its skin while making a getaway.

Turtles were always my favorite pet, however. At one time, I had three or four different kinds, and I discovered that raw ground beef seemed to be a fair substitute for insects.

Still a pre-teen, I decided to write a little book about turtles, sharing everything I’d learned over the years. I drew a cover and some inside illustrations and typed the whole book on a typewriter–this was LONG before personal computers. Here’s the front cover and a sample of inside pages.

    

My father was always looking for turtles for me when he was out in the car. Once while we were visiting his mother in Richmond, he was preaching somewhere out in the country. When he got back to Richmond, he sent me out to the car for the treasure he had found. He explained that he’d seen somebody beating it with an umbrella, and he stopped to rescue it.

Well, wouldn’t you know that–in his innocence about different kinds of turtles–he’d brought home a pretty big snapping turtle! That thing was just as ugly as I knew snapping turtles to be (while still fascinating, of course). It didn’t have any potential as a pet. So the question was what to do with it.

My grandmother’s basement opened to the backyard, but it was necessary to go up some concrete steps to get to yard level. So I put the snapping turtle in that walled in area and put some type of barrier across the top of the steps to prevent the turtle from getting out.

Hmm. That barrier wasn’t sufficient, and I’ll bet I spent hours checking every part of the backyard for the turtle. I never found it.

So, if you live in the fan district of Richmond and unexpectedly encounter a good-sized snapping turtle, I can’t tell you for sure that it’s my old, uh, friend. But it might be. And, for Pete’s sake, don’t take it home to the kids!

Your comments are welcome.

I’ll be back again next Sunday if I have something to say then *G*. If you’d like to receive my posts by email, go to “Follow Blog via Email” at the upper right.

Best regards,
Roger

Links you might be interested in: