Last summer, my husband made the mistake of bringing home an absolutely adorable turtle from Nana’s house. Now you cannot bring animals home for a visit because children get attached and make them pets. I thought that we were clear about the pet thing. I absolutely do not want to put that much work into anything that’s not a person. Not that I’m an animal hater; I’m an animal tolerator. If you want to own a pet, have at it. Just don’t judge me for not wanting one. I’ve got enough on my plate without animals in the mix.
The turtle was supposed to stay for a week, but that didn’t happen. Bug got attached. This is the same child who once had a pet earthworm, Wormy, which she lovingly caressed and kept in a Solo cup full of dirt, so I shouldn’t have been surprised. Frankie did what any soft-hearted father would do and made a home for it on the deck. He poked holes in the side of a big plastic storage bin and outfitted it with a brick, grass clippings, and water. It smelled awful. But Bug loved her turtle, and so did Frankie. She named it Necky, after a legendary turtle from Nana’s woods with a (you guessed it) unusually long neck.
Weeks passed with Bug and Frankie lovingly tending to the turtle. Then the kids and I visited my family across the state for my nephew’s birthday party; Frankie stayed back to do a funeral. When I called to check in, he delivered the bad news. Somehow, Necky had escaped his bin and was found crushed in the church parking lot (we were still in the parsonage at the time, right next door to the church). Well, I figured, pets die. It’s a valuable life lesson about loss and death. Maybe it’s a little early, but Bug will cope.
Then he delivered worse news. Rather than let his sweet child suffer from a broken heart, he went online and ordered two turtles. There was a buy-one-get-one-free sale. He got expedited shipping so that they would be there before we got home from our family visit. The price? $75.
“How are we going to pay for this?! What budget category is this going to come from?” I fret.
“The emergency fund!” he says in all sincerity.
At that moment, I’m moved by his sweetness and am grateful that my children have such a loving, caring father. So I become complicit in the lie and spin a story to explain the extra turtle. I tell Bug that Necky’s sister has come to visit. Daddy found her while he was mowing at Nana’s. She doesn’t question the explanation, which is good, because when one of the turtles bites the dust a few months later, I tell her that the visit was over and the turtle had returned to Nana’s. She still has no clue.
So far Frankie has spent something like $300 on the turtles. In his impulsive zeal to save his child from disappointment (a very lovable trait, really), he failed to do his research and later discovered that they grow to be quite big—up to a foot across—and many people end up having to give their turtles to some sort of facility that can accommodate their vast space needs. Hopefully that won’t happen for a few years because Bug is just enamored with her pet. But when the time comes to let it go, Frankie’s going to have to have some explaining to do.
