I know what’s ensuing would be hilarious to many of you. Many would say how vella is the guy to write about his dead turtle. Yes, Dodo was my turtle. I swear I would have laughed if I read someone else write sumthing of this sort. Its funny but it’s true. It’s funny that Dodo was my pet turtle. It’s funny that his death created a void in a responsible life towards his food and keeping. Its funny that I am missing him.
It was the 4th of October 2006, when my sister came running to me with him veiled in her fist. I thought its sum radiant artificial feng-shui piece and picked it up. It moved a bit and I moved bitter. Almost threw him off by a meter, flabbergasted to see a living turtle in my house, more so on my palm.
I got my laptop the same day… The much awaited gizmo which was suffering deep contemplation for many months then. “Did Dodo prove lucky? “, I thought to myself and this heightened my belief in feng-shui. I realized that he’s lucky. Clicked his pictures, made his video, observed how he fluctuated his much apprehensive neck movement, in and out, out and in and intricately observed how he ate food in tiny gobbles.
He was a red eared slider, one of the rare species of turtles found in the world. I was even immersed in vanity for owning a rare one now. Almost everyone from the colony, from the kids to the nighty-clad aunts came over and paid a visit to him, some nearly falling down when they realized its real. Some liked its shell, some asked what the red mark near his ear was, and some turned him upside down to see how he excreted and how he stored food in such a small body.
Even the name giving was much profoundly executed. One of my cousins suggested DODO to be the name. I persisted on TITO, while my sister quickly started calling him with the former to avoid my silly suggestion; I silently took the denotation in my stride.
He was one head turner, placed in a bowl near the wash basin. Every time we went to rinse our hands or wash our face, he would sneakily peep out of his shell to see whether it was me or my sister. He actually liked her a lot. She was the only one to hold him all day long and make him play on her palms. He hated me somehow. Even led to extreme discomfiture when my friends dropped in and wanted to see him. He would by no means like an adamant Roman, come out of the shelled closet, only cuz he detested me.
Winter morns, he was left on the ground for a satiating sun bask. He would run happily throughout the terrace to see himself free from the bowl and the murky water inside it. His small webbed feet left utterly cute footmarks behind his royal gait, and we used to imitate his walk with our protruding bellies to copy him.
The winters are here again. The sun is back in a pleasant way. The paunch is the same and the tiny worms are waiting… but the bowl is empty and the gait is gone…Dodo is dead.
He just died this morning all swelled up in his bowl, with his apprehensive neck completely out this time, but tremulous eyes just to be beholding. I am sure he must have wanted to embrace his breathing for my sister to come back from school and give him a final coaster ride on her palms, I am sure he so wanted to see my hateful glance of him, I am sure he wanted to enjoy the sun this year too. But he silently passed away.
He is well buried near the Christmas tree where he loved playing and hiding under the leaves. He silently sleeps in there…no aunties, no kids around him this time. He sees us all. My sister cries and I wish the bowl had something moving in it all over again. We miss u lil one! We truly would miss u in the warm winter sun…!!
