The Runaway Turtle

Monday night we had a bit of a scare. I came home and Harlem (our turtle) was not in her tank. These are the thoughts that went through my head:

1. uh oh

2. I don't want to look behind the tank because what if she's all smooshed and mangled from falling four feet?

3. Why did Dan want a dang turtle!

4. It's his turtle he should have to look for it laying somewhere with her guts hanging out!

5. I hope I don't step on her

6. Did I smash her when I walked in?

blah blah blah

Basically I just really didn't want to find a half dead turtle and touch it and then try and figure out how to deal with it, cause I am not taking a $15 turtle to the vet for a $50+ bill, that's for dang sure!

Dan soon came home and I went about making dinner while he searched the apartment.

... and searched

... and searched.

Where in the world is our dang turtle!? It's only a 1 bedroom apartment!

We decided we would say some prayers (we didn't want her suffering and I didn't want our apartment reeking of decaying turtle and we wanted to find the dang creature!) and we ate our dinner. While sitting on the couch we heard some scratching noises. THE TURTLE! The noises had those echoey qualities of noises made in the bathroom. But we'd looked every where in there! Maybe not behind the toilet...

The nastiest place she could find? Yeah she wedged herself into that spot.
She of course was fine. Amiga Zaneta had informed me that turtles do have tough shells and she'd probably just tried to bury herself somewhere to hibernate. Harlem had no cracks on her shell and was just as active as ever at trying to bite Dan's fingers off.

And of course she let something drop while back there behind the toilet and now our bathroom permanently smells like poo. Guess I'll finally have to clean that place behind the toilet your mom tells you to clean : (