Most couples adopt a puppy together. But Brad and I aren’t like most couples. I was in a foul mood on my 30th birthday when Brad brought me a Rubbermaid bin full of soil and light bulbs with a little water dish and a food bowl. He was going to get me a tortoise. We were going to raise an immortal friendship beast together. What better way to celebrate aging than adopting a creature that will outlive you by decades?
The next day while Brad was at work, I made calls and sent emails all over town to find a resident for my tortoise habitat. Petco had a little Russian tortoise that he had been planning to get, but it had been purchased by the time he’d assembled all the supplies. A lot of pet stores don’t carry them since they can require a lot of care and they’re practically immortal. The only place that had them was Ed’s Pet World. Ed’s is more of an animal penitentiary than a pet store. They’ve been around for longer than I’ve been alive despite *what I assume* are countless lawsuits and python-related mishaps. God help me, I had no business going into that frightful place. They had animals stacked on top of each other in racks and bins. Creatures stared dolefully from wire cages and cardboard boxes. They even kept a pair of adult tortoises who ambled through the store gobbling up misplaced carrots, dog chow, and car keys (I assume.) I went to the register and asked which tortoises were for sale. The clerk reached under the counter and brought out a clear plastic box containing a little sand colored stone. She scooped it up and placed it in my hand, then walked away without a word. I examined it closely and saw two little nostrils and four little feet tucked under a protective carapace.
I was in love the moment I laid eyes on him. I stood with him in the palm of my hand for an hour. It took several minutes for him to poke his head out and meet me, then his tiny toenails scratched at my hand as he decided I was safe to explore. He was a sulcata tortoise hatchling. A breed of tortoise which was the third largest in the world. His breed can grow to be heavier than me and no one is really sure what their lifespan is, but we know it’s longer than mine. Nonetheless, I had to have him.
Brad was leaving work when I called to tell him I’d found my tortoise. I told him I was crazy. I told him I was impractical. But I couldn’t let him go. The little guy was so vulnerable but he was tough too. He was a curious little tank who wanted to explore every inch of the store, yet he was terrified when I sneezed. Brad understood that I’d bonded with him and despite the impracticality of his future size and lifespan, we took him home. We set up an enclosure and put him inside. I watched with bated breath as he explored for a little while then fell asleep. I dubbed him Nebuchadnezzar: Land Eagle and I vowed to keep him safe and healthy and happy. For the rest of our lives.
Land Eagle was painfully young and cute and vulnerable. I poured outrageous amounts of worry and attention to his comfort. He had to have lots of sunlight and high humidity, room to roam and grass to graze on. If I left him without something he wanted, he would climb the side of his cage and fall over onto his back and not be able to flip himself over. He would die if I didn’t find him in time. Sometimes, I would get up in the middle of the night just to check on him. I was plagued by nightmares of his demise, so I got up extra early every morning so I could feed him, bathe him, and take him on a teeny, tiny walk. While I was at work, I worried endlessly about whether he had flipped himself and whether he was hungry or bored. When I got home at the end of the day, he was already asleep. I counted every day a success when I was able to come home and find him safely snoozing under his log.
He and I were kindred spirits. Both herbivores who enjoyed being alone together. We never talked but we liked to be outdoors. We didn’t like to meet new people and we abhorred small-talk. We were both shy sometimes and bold sometimes and extremely stubborn. His growth was like his gait, slow but implacable. Nothing like the manic growth of a kitten or puppy.
Within a year he was bigger, but still only as big as my hand. He developed a taste for dandelions and would get grumpy when he was hungry. Every morning, I would carry him on a saucer to graze in our front yard. The neighbors thought I was nuts because it looked for all the world like I’d put on my bathrobe and taken a bran muffin outside to sit in the grass (he was exactly the same size, color, and shape.) I meditated while he ate. I gathered my thoughts for the day ahead. I laid in the grass to see the world from his point of view. His steadfast companionship prepared me for days filled with noise and chaos.
Within a year he was bigger, but still only as big as my hand. He developed a taste for dandelions and would get grumpy when he was hungry. Every morning, I would carry him on a saucer to graze in our front yard. The neighbors thought I was nuts because it looked for all the world like I’d put on my bathrobe and taken a bran muffin outside to sit in the grass (he was exactly the same size, color, and shape.) I meditated while he ate. I gathered my thoughts for the day ahead. I laid in the grass to see the world from his point of view. His steadfast companionship prepared me for days filled with noise and chaos.
