I have a picture on my desk. It is a picture of my first pet ever: Speedy, the turtle.
I caught Speedy one day across the street from my house. He as hanging out in the brush, and I was walking through the woods.
Over the years, I ended up finding turtles and keeping them for a few weeks or months and then letting them go. Each one was named “Speedy”, but as time went on, they got Roman numerals after their names. I believe that I eventually got up to VIII.
I remember the turtles well. Others included Tutti-Fruity (he came to me with that name, when a girl’s mother made her give him up to me because I apparently knew how to take care of turtles) and Runty, whose nest I found early one spring, and I watched the rest of his brothers hatch and walk off. He was the smallest, and he didn’t leave, and finally I took him in.
Sometimes, I miss the town I grew up in, and the house. Mostly, though, I miss the lazy summer days in the woods, and the turtles.
