I must admit that I'm the cause of this obsession. Theo announces, after I have spent too much time talking about them, that he has to see a turtle. Not just any turtle. He wants to see the kind of turtles that I remembered when I was a kid. At Turtle Back Zoo.
"You could ride on their backs," I tell Theo one night when I'm reminiscing. "That's how big they are."
We have a few photos, but a photo of a big turtle on your iPhone doesn't quite set the stage. You have to be there in person. You have to look a turtle in the eye, watch him crawl so slow he's almost standing still. And you have to watch him eat.
Theo does nothing slow. He zips around the house. He gallops like a racehorse at the Kentucky Derby. He wolfs down his food as if any minute his brother Mico will sneak up from behind and snatch it away.
I think that that's why Theo is so entranced. We stand outside an area where turtles roam, encircled by a fence, but Theo doesn't seem to mind. I assume he wants to ride one. (That will present a problem.)
But, no, he is literally entranced just being there.
The turtles here are old. They're not prehistoric, but they look like they can be. Their skin is wrinkled. Their shells have lost the shine that you see on any supermarket fruit. If they were people, we'd suggest a diet to help slim down their fat, pudgy legs. But everything that we humans fight to avoid, turtles inhabit with glee.
There are four girl turtles here: Wilma, Betty, Tweedle Dee, and Tweedle Dum. Wilma and Betty are over 50 years old. The Tweedles are younger--in their early thirties. Each one weighs between 180 and 300 pounds. Officially, they are part of the "Aldabra Giant Tortoise" family. We do our research and discover the largest Aldabra Tortoise weighed close to 700 pounds. The Aldabras are some of the largest tortoises in the world.
Theo continues to stare.
Giant tortoises used to live on many of the western Indian Ocean islands and on Madagascar. Back in the day, they lived on every continent with the exception of Australia and Antarctica. By 1840, however, they're the only species of giant turtles to survive the overexploitation by European sailors. They are not endangered, but their existence is fragile.
"Did you really ride one?" Theo asks.
I nod, none too proud of what was allowed years ago. "But that isn't a good thing. They're not horses."
Theo tilts his head, then actually moves closer to the fence, close enough so he can sniff them. I believe cats really never truly understand anything until they sniff it.
I know little about giant tortoises. Suddenly one of the tortoises starts to amble towards Theo. I slowly back away.
The journey to Theo is slow. Each foot lifts as if it is encased in cement. Eventually, he is standing within a few feet of my valiant gangster cat.
Theo presses his nose against the fence. The turtle looks up. He is quite beautiful in a wrinkly kind of way.
Nothing dramatic happens. Theo doesn't leap over the fence. The turtle doesn't clamor to get out. They just gaze at each other. I'm reminded of that phrase close encounters of the third kind, when two species coming together.
Later I have to ask Theo, "Did you want to be friends?"
Theo looks askance.
"You got up so close . . ."
"I had to do it, see?"
