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This story has turned into a novel...grab some coffee and settle in. Don't worry...it's worth the read and there are many pictures included to reward you for your reading effort.
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So I'm at work last week and I have someone at my desk when I receive this wildly excited phone call from The Kiddo. He says:
The Kiddo: "Mooooommmm! We have a HUGE freakin' turtle on our deck!!!"
Gracie is hugely freakin' busy and doesn't have much time right now for a huuuuge 3 oz. turtle, so she (probably too patronizingly) says: "That's nice, sweetie....I gotta go" but Kiddo persists:
The Kiddo: "No. MOM. You don't understand..." Which is the time-honored tradition among teenagers...to inform their parents that they are retarded assholes "It's REALLY EFFIN' BIIIIIG!"
To be clear, my sixteen year old did not, in fact, say the 'F' word; he abbreviated it exactly as shown.
Gracie: "Okay, okay, honey, it's reeeeally effin' big; I hear you. But I really do have to go. I have someone at my desk. Why don't you just take a picture of it and email it to me, okay? Then we can talk about it later."
The Kiddo: "Fine. ...but it's REALLY friggin' BIG, ma."
Gracie: "Okee-dokee, sweetie. I'll look at it when I get home. Buh-bye now."
And I go back to the person at my desk. She's giving me a quizzical look, obviously confused by my side of the conversation, wherein I acknowledged that something was 'reeeeaaaally effin' BIG' to my sixteen-year-old, asked him to take a picture of whatever it was, and offered to LOOK at it when I got home. CLEARLY this was going to need an explanation. So I lay it all out for her, then offer to go back to what we were working on.
Uh-uh. She's having NONE of that. She wants to know more. Especially since, by this point, I have received the picture of the turtle, which I've kindly uploaded so you all can share in the joy, and he's...right. It's really freakin' BIG. So I call The Kiddo back and begin questioning him on the size and appearance of our newest family member. He, ever-so-excited to be discussing this most recent development that he discovered, regales me with information such as its shell design (squares, not diamonds, which is good apparently) and the size: "Bigger than my head and roughly the size of a deluxe waffle box!"
heh.
Really, though, we had work to do and The Kiddo would've happily kept us on the phone for the rest of the day and that just wasn't possible, so we reluctantly said goodbye, though I did tell him to keep the dogs inside and away from it, especially since we weren't sure how it got in --could've been a whole in the fence-- and we didn't want them to hurt the turtle or escape the yard themselves.
Aaaaand we went back to work, finished our task and she was headed back to her desk, but not before making me promise to keep her posted on Turtle Watch 2006. I agreed.
About an hour or so later I called The Kiddo again to make sure he didn't get so immersed in his new friend that he forgot his appointment at the high school to pick up the necessary paperwork for his first job, which was supposed to begin later that week. His reply:
The Kiddo: "Yeah, yeah, I KNOOOOOOW."
Gracie: "Good...just making sure."
The Kiddo: "Hey...I'm gonna take Joseph with me."
The Kiddo has suddenly become quite the social butterfly lately...lots of new friends, 2 girlfriends just since school ended, etc., etc., so I assumed he meant one of his new friends.
Nope.
He meant the turtle.
Oh that's right...my child named the stray turtle. And he is JOSEPH. and...AND he is planning to TAKE JOSEPH with him on his upcoming 3-mile journey to the HIGH SCHOOL.
the HELL!?
Right, right. I forgot...not supposed to ask. So...moving on.
I laugh, because he's always saying silly stuff to make me giggle, and say "Very funny, kiddo. I have to go....and so do you." And we hang up. End scene.
Fade back in about an hour later and I call The Kiddo's cellphone to make sure he actually left for the school because he's been joined at the hip with his new girlfriend lately and today is the last day he can pick up the paperwork before his second interview and I --who am so NOT controlling and panicky...hahaha, yeah...even *I* don't buy THAT-- am getting all jittery that he's going to forget and look unprofessional and stuff. So I call him and he assures me that he HAS left for the school; is on his way right now, as a matter of fact. Here is how that went:
Gracie: Okay, well when you get home, be sure to kind of block the turtle off with boxes or something so it doesn't get away or hide under the deck or something where the dogs can get to it. Also, dad wants to see it before we take it back to the pond over in [neighboring subdivision that contains lake-like pond].
The Kiddo: "Uhhhh...."
And I KNOW that sound...that's the "I did something that's probably going to make that weird blue vein in your head start popping out again..." noise that I have come to loathe.
Gracie: "Kiiiiiddo?? WHAT did you DO??"
The Kiddo: *Crickets chirping*
Gracie: "KID-doh! Tell me!"
The Kiddo: "...well...I TOLD you I was going to take Joseph with me!"
Gracie: *Nooooo* "I thought you were KIDDING!!"
The Kiddo: "Why would I kid about that??"
Gracie: "Uhhhh....."
The Kiddo: "Anyway, I don't have him now."
Gracie: "WHAT?! Why not!?"
The Kiddo: "Well cause he got HEAVY!"
Gracie: *Pictures him trotting around town with this big-ass turtle tucked under his arm like a football and groooooan* "AAAAAND???"
The Kiddo: "....."
Gracie: "AAAAAAAAAND??"
The Kiddo: *Barely audible and phrased almost like a question* "...and I put him down...?" as though the combination of the questioning tone AND the slightly audible, just above a whisper-like sound will somehow make him LESS in trouble*
Gracie: "You put him DOWN??"
The Kiddo: *in a tone of voice that immediately reminds me of Bill Cosby discussing how he caught his kids stealing cookies* "uhhh-huuuUUUuuhhh"
Gracie: "WHY did you do that?"
The Kiddo: *completes the Bill Cosby imitation* "iiii dooooon't knooOOOOooow"
Gracie: *Covers eyes with hand...purses lips* "Siiiiigh. WHERE did you put him down, Kiddo??"
The Kiddo: "I dunno."
Gracie: "WHERE??"
The Kiddo: In someone's yard...by the front of [name of much-farther-away subdivision]."
Gracie: "Dammit"
The Kiddo: "Whhhaaaaat??"
Gracie: "That was very irresponsible, Kiddo."
The Kiddo: "What? WHY??"
Gracie: "Because. At least at our house he was near water and he was fenced in and safe. Where you left him is near many, many cars and NO water. He could get hurt. We could have made sure that he got back to some place safe. We may not be able to do that now."
The Kiddo: "OOoooh."
Gracie: "That's RIGHT."
The Kiddo: "Geeeez...it's just a turtle, Maaaaaa."
Gracie: "Hey! That poor turtle has probably been through HELL."
The Kiddo: "...uh....are you OKAY, mom??"
Gracie: "Of course I'm okay! That poor thing finally got to our house by our pool and is just takin' a lil rest and then aloooong comes this teenager who just SCOOPS his ass up and trots off to the high school and he's probably all 'Duuuuude! I just GOT here! It took me, like, a freakin' YEAR to get here!' and then you just DUMP him off somewhere HE doesn't know and he's all 'where the HELL am I??' and what if he has a family back at the pond or something??"
The Kiddo: *says very gently and with a little fear* "I...think...you might need to lie down, mom..."
And I recognize the tone...it's the tone that George uses with me quite frequently. It's that 'ooooo, she's GONE, man...she's a FRUIT LOOP' tone o' voice. So I reign it in and inform him that he is to march his ass TO the school, get his papers, he is NOT to stop and see his girly-friend on the way back, but will instead be going back to the subdivision to locate poor turtle-dude. He, of course, is PISSED. He simply cannot understand what all the fuss is about. I calmly explain it again --without mention of Mrs. Turtle and their precious little babies-- that it is over 90 degrees outside, he isn't near water and he IS near speeding traffic. Finally, I am greeted with:
The Kiddo: "...huh. Yeeeeah...maybe I shouldn't have taken him with me."
Gracie: "Perhaps not."
He agrees to haul ass back from the school to search for Turtie McJoseph and will call me back with an update. I heave a sigh of relief and go back to work.
After an hour, I still have not heard back from him. I begin to get a little concerned. He is, after all, MY son and forgetfulness (read: A.D.D. Motherload) dooooes run in the fam-damily, so I give him a call. He, of course, doesn't answer. I call again. And again. One call after another. Still he doesn't pick up. My voicemails are becoming increasingly erratic and pissy and, when the horrific thought continues to pass through my head that perhaps something terrible has happened and he's lying in a DITCH somewhere aaaaall because I inSISTED that he go back and search for the gawdam turtle, I whimper and plead with his voicemail.
Voicemail #1: "Kiddo...where are you? Did you make it to the school? Call me, okay?"
*Gracie pauses a moment to say a silent Thank You to the Powers-that-Be for the fact that The Kiddo did NOT take the turtle all the way to his intended destination...I can just SEE him walking into the school office with that damn thing tucked under his arm....*
Voicemail #2: "Hey! ANSWER your PHONE!!" *as though he can hear me??*
Voicemail #6: "Honey? This isn't funny. I'm really worried here! Please call me sweetie. I love you."
Voicemail #9: "I am NOT going to stop calling, mister! PICK. UP. THEEEEE. PHOOOOOOOONE! ....love you, bye."
*Gracie takes a 45 second calling-the-kiddo break to call the school and ask if he'd been there yet. She is relieved to hear that he has been there. She is less relieved to hear that he left over 15 minutes ago.*
Voicemail #11: "Gawdamnit, Kiddo, this is NOT. COOL. CALL ME NOW!"
Voicemail #19: "Okay, sweetie? Are you not answering cause you're carrying the turtle?" *again, as though he's walking around with a turtle in one hand and an old-fashioned tape recorder answering machine in the other* "Just call me, okay, honey? I won't be mad."
Voicemail #32: "WHAT the HELL!? This is your MOTHER! If you don't call me back in 3 minutes, you are GROUNDED buster! I MEAN it!!"
Voicemail #33: "I love you honey, where ARE you???"
On the 34th call, he realizes that I am WAY better at this game than he is and decides to forfeit. He answers. Shock of shocks, he is with his girlfriend.
The Kiddo: "We got 'im!! It's been 2 hours and the little bastard didn't move an INCH!!"
I can't be THAT upset over the language, as he is 16 AND he is such a decent kid that he actually came to me last year and asked permission to use some curse words when he was either at home or with his friends ("but don't worry...NEVER around other adults, mom!") and I just thought it was so sweet and decent that he would ask my permission to say some minor curse words (and NEVER the 'F' word!) especially at times when I wasn't even going to be there to hear it that I simply couldn't say no. It's still a little unnerving to hear certain words like that from my child, but he's almost a man and...well...have you HEARD my language???
So anyway, turtlemania:
It's getting late and The Kiddo is supposed to be at his 2nd job interview very soon and he has this big-ass turtle with him and he's worried about how long it's going to take to bring it back home, as well as feeling concern over the immense Georgia heat and then having to walk BACK to the interview and being all sweaty and gross. So I, SuperMom, agree to come to him to obtain transfer of zee turtle.
I really should have thought that through before agreeing to this.
I drive swiftly from my office to where he is, I pull to a side street within the subdivision and meet his girlfriend for the first time. She's very cute, but I am struck by her outfit, her height, her beauty, and I immediately think of the birds and bees conversation that we recently had1 and want to remind my son to ALWAYS HAVE PROTECTION!!! But I realize that this is prooooobably not the best time to bring that up. What with his girlfriend being right there and it being our very first meeting and all. Also, it was really their 'first date' that day, so it just maaaay have been slightly inappropriate. Whatever. I didn't DO it, okay??
So I get out of the car and walk around to the back of the SUV and suddenly realize that this is shaping up to be a Very Bad Idea. The Kiddo gently puts Mr. Turtle into the back of the truck (thank Christ, because truthfully? The thing creeps me OUT...it's very snakelike and prehistoric looking and I just don't like it much) and, now that he's Mr. Macho with his girlfriend around, the turtle isn't Joseph anymore, oh no, it's now 'The Turtle of DOOOOM!' (I'm not kidding) and I depart for home.
A mile later and I am pissed. Not only am I upset about the turns and driving up our freaking MOUNTAIN of a driveway because, even though I drove as carefully and slowly as possible, I can still hear the Beast in the Back Seat slamming up against the sides of the car.
!!!!
And that's when it gets worse.
See...it didn't occur to me how this would all take place after The Kiddo put the turtle in my car and I tra-la-la drove away. George wasn't home yet and wouldn't be for at least an hour. It was 9 billion degrees outside, so I couldn't leave the damned thing in the car. SO. I. was going. to have. to. TOUCH IT!!!! NOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Did I mention how BIG it was?!?! Let's refresh our memories:
Shut up. It's freakin' HUGE man. And it's slimy and has talons and shit. Also? It's head? Looks VERY much like a penis. With a sharp beak and EYES, okay? This is NOT fun.
Since it's clear to me that I am going to have to take care of this, I cry a little, curse the men in my life for not being exactly where I need them WHEN I freakin' need them and then I reach for the turtle.
And then I pull back. HE MOVED!!! I ain't touchin' THAT! So I go rooting around in the garage and the rest of the car trying to find something to carry him in. I feel utterly BRILLIANT when I find an old cafepress box.
Until I realize that it isn't likely that he will hop on into that box of his own free will. STILL I have to touch this friggin' monster. I still decide to use the box because I have two psychotic (80 lb!) dogs who feel that if it's not bipedal and is smaller than they are? It's a treat. A toy. A plaything. At least if I carry it in through the house on my way to the (fenced in! but...apparently not fenced OUT) back yard, they at least won't be able to SEE what I have and knock me over to chew it.
So I finally take a deep breath, stop the fits and starts and just decide to DO IT already and I pick it up and place it in the box, all the while going "Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, don'tchoofuckinmove, buster! don't you EVEN dare! I am trying to SAVE YOUR LIFE here, buddyroo, so do NOT entertain any thoughts of eating me, ho-kay!?" and he's in the box! Whew!
Have I mentioned how pleased I was with myself? Oh, I was. But this thought isn't the only one in my head. No...I am also very, VERY grossed out because I have to place my hand on the very bottom of the box in order to transport him because my other hand is full and I don't know how strong the box is and he's heavy and I don't want the box to rip juuuuust as I near the dogs and I want him to be safe (also I am not too keen on mopping up turtle juice) so I'm carrying him carefully, my arm outstretched (because it's a well-known fact that turtles frequently develop the ability to stand on two legs, whip around and, with LIGHTNING speed, badger attack a woman's nipples and nose) and I cannot stop being ooked out that my hand is just flimsy material away from a turtle's ASS and what if he eats through the cardboard or the tape doesn't hold??? Oh shut UP, I am NOT overly dramatic!!! It could happen!
So I get the turtle safely to the back yard...where he started this day and I find an old big-ass bucket and add an inch or two of water and place him in it. I look back to the house to make sure I closed the door tightly (the dogs have actually learned how to open any and all doors in our home, including the sliding glass doors in the kitchen, siiiigh) And I see this.
No way I'm leaving this thing alone, so I decide to just sit outside at the table under the umbrella with my new best friend and wait for George to come home. It was over an hour that we hung together and I had a trashy tabloid magazine that I was guffawing at to keep me busy and I would periodically peer into the bucket (did I mention that I had the bucket up on the table with me? Yeah...I did) to see how/what it was doing. The first time I did that we were both terribly startled. I did not expect to see anything but shell. Instead I saw his head nearly all the way extended and alarmingly close to the top of the bucket (near my head and HAIR!) and we both saw each other and slammed our heads back out of the way again. I thought that if I spoke to it in a friendly tone, he may not eat me, so we chatted. I read him stories from the magazine...I lamented about what utter Trailer Park Trash gum-chomping Britney Spears is and how I can't believe she could be THAT stupid for THAT long and what a MORON she was if for nothing else than for NOT hiring a stylist and publicist who actually cares about her and Joseph the Turtle of DOOOOM! totally agreed with me.
Then George arrived and the fun really began. He checked it out, laughed at my stories of the day, took Joseph the Turtle of DOOOOM! out of the bucket and placed him on the table. Now...the LAST time a slimy creature was placed on this very table, chaos ensued, so I moved my chair well out of his path and watched with a wary eye (and a camera).
Click for my view #1
Click for my view #2
Click for my view #3
That's right, George brought him lettuce but he refused to eat it. We then put him on one of the chairs, thinking that maybe we were just too close for him to come out of his shell.
Nope
and...some more Nope
No, he didn't like it there either. So we put him on the sidewalk by the pool. STILL he wouldn't move and wouldn't eat the lettuce. Finally, it occurs to brilliant Gracie that perhaps it's....US. WHO doesn't like US?? Well...apparently the TURTLE doesn't. So I suggest that we move about 20 feet away and directly behind him where he can't easily see us and maybe THEN we'll see some turtle action (please, god, never let me use that phrase again.) THAT did the trick. He emerged and sparked right up.
Yes.
He certainly did
Then we saw this and were slightly concerned that he might move around or take off but for close to 10 minutes, the view never changed.
...and we watched him, talked about how cool it was that he came here, how big he is and wondered how old he might be. I again mentioned my theory on TurtleThoughts and how he was all "Dude...it took me, like, a YEAR to get here!" cause, you know, I crack myself up and insist on doing it to others, as well, and then...we got bored. I mentioned that I was hungry and George suggested we run inside and toss the leftover spaghetti in the microwave, then come back out and have a cigarette while watching the turtle some more. So we do. Then...suddenly, as I'm finishing up 'cooking dinner' George is making his way back out the door when I hear him go: "uht? he...oh." And I say "What? What's going on?" And I walk over to the sliding door where he is and I see that Mr. Heretofore Slug-of-a-Turtle-Who-Never-Moves is now hauling ASS. to the POOL. We're both stumbling over each other to get the door open and of COURSE this is when the lock on the sliding door refuckingFUSES to cooperate so we get outside JUUUUST in time to see his ass LEAP into the water.
The next thing we saw? Was THIS.
Shit.
Once the turtle was in the pool, there was no need to keep the dogs locked in the house any longer. They're rather terrified of the pool water (each time I step into the pool, with each step I take, they both bark frantically at me, warning me of its danger. It's very precious) so we know that neither of them will go leaping into the pool after the turtle. They'll do what they always do when some animal makes its way into our pool: Whine, whimper, don a 'ooowhassAT?!' look on their faces, coupled with adorably perked-up ears and tilted heads, wag their tails, and run a really lot in all directions around (but never IN!) the pool. We've had everything from frogs, to other people's dogs, to freakin' DUCKS and GEESE show up in the pool and they've never once jumped in after them. And the ducks and geese drove them the craziest and STILL they wouldn't even stick a paw in.
Anyway, I took many pictures while laughing at both the dogs AND George, because he grabbed the skimmer and kept trying to scoop the turtle out of the pool (which is how we remove frogs from the pool, you'll remember. Which is also bad news, since whenever the dogs see us grab the skimmer? They come running, hoping to grab the frog off the skimmer before we can set it free on the other side of the fence toward the woods.) but the turtle waits till George has him half in the skimmer, then he hits the Nitrous Oxide button hidden inside his shell and goes to the deep end at 60mph. I find it all VERY VERY amusing. George? Not so much.
I put all of the pictures into a slideshow (html, nothin' fancy) for you all to view at your leisure. Click here to see dogs acting like dorks. My favorite picture? The one of bella facing off with the turtle and she was so excited and was running around like a doofus that she managed to flip one of her ears (and only one!) inside out. It's a riot. Sadly, the majority of Bella pix either didn't come out at all or are blurry and nearly indecipherable, due to her high energy level. It kills me because some of her facial expressions were laugh out loud funny, but as soon as I hit the button to take a picture? BAM! She was gone...off and running the next spot, 40 inches away. Ah well, scroll past the pics I already showed and you'll get to the new ones...they're still funny.
In closing: the turtle stayed in our pool for 24 hours. We called our pool guy and asked him if it would hurt the turtle and he said "Nope" so we didn't freak out too much. The next day, The Kiddo removed the turtle from the pool. Using the skimmer. George was irritated and baffled that The Kiddo was able to do it so easily when he had spent the better part of an hour trying to do just that the day before, but at least JOSEPH(!) was safe. And The Kiddo was further satisfied that he was, in actuality, the Masterful, Miracle-Working, Psychic to Earthly Animals & Beings.
Ahhhh, the joys of....what? Motherhood? Marriage? Pets? Pool ownership? Naaaaah....
Life.
Footnote 1: When The Kiddo got his first girlfriend (that we know about, anyway) at the end of the school year, Gracie fuh-REAKED out and forced me, George, and The Kiddo into The Birds & The Bees 'Talk'. I will write about THAT slice of heaven later this week.
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