I’m working on my tortoise side these days. Trying to remind myself that daily work is something that can be trusted. I know from violin that carefully and steadily working through an etude book does amazing things, even if I am unable to accurately judge my progress along the way. Even if I feel like I’m spinning my wheels. So why in real life do I go into a panic every few weeks and try to sprint for long distances?
My dad brought Myrtle the turtle home from a pet store when I was five or six years old. My parents had promised me a puppy after our Old English sheepdog died, but I suddenly got a lot healthier after he was gone, and allergy testing confirmed that I was very, asthmatically, allergic to both dogs and cats. And so, Myrtle entered our lives. She is decidedly un-cuddly, but she's got character.
She is still going strong after 30-some years, and I’ve had many occasions to watch her in action. She has her own strong, stalwart beauty. She is mostly shell of course, but her skin, besides being scaled and wrinkly, is also a deep red-brown color, and her throat is speckled all over with orange. Her legs and neck are incredibly muscular. If you pick her up mid-stride, her legs will keep moving, trying to find the ground, and her neck strains ferociously. It is surprising to feel how much power those limbs have. You might not think a turtle could wiggle out of your hands, but Myrtle has been dropped a number of times through the years, and it isn’t always the result of clumsy handling.
When all is said and done, she is faster than you might expect a turtle to be. During warm weather, when she is let out of her aquarium to roam my parents’ house, she disappears quickly. And when she really gets going—when she is in full stride, all muscle and will—she extends her neck all the way out of its shy folds, revealing all those wonderful orange speckles. It turns out her throat is her most beautiful feature.
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