What the shell?
Don’t you love it when you are mindlessly following a routine and some sort of surprise awaits? Me too. I was headed into the backyard to pull more of the weeds that seem to thrive on my abuse when I almost stepped on a turtle. I’m not sure of the official variety, but we always refer to this particular type as a painted turtle. My little visitor had managed to push itself under our chain link fence and seemed as surprised as I was to find itself in the middle of Booker’s pen. Before I could decide what to do, Booker came around the corner and flipped the turtle upside down. It rocked back and forth on its rounded shell for a moment, and then came to a halt. Baffled, Booker began to circle and bark. Where did its head and feet go? I poo-poo’d him and moved the turtle to a safe, shaded, grassy area outside of Booker’s reach. The turtle kept a suspicious eye on me as it consulted some internal GPS. Eventually it made one more semi-swoop towards Booker’s area, which effectively said, “In your face paw-boy!” Booker was, of course, going nuts at the insult. With surprising speed the turtle headed for greener, quieter, vistas. I grinned as I saw its little turtle tail disappearing into the tall grass. Turtle attitude…it was the best part of my day.