Sepia Saturday challenges bloggers to share family history through old photographs.
This week’s Sepia Saturday photo prompt of the pipe-smoking soldier inspecting the battalion mascot conjured up the faint memory of my sister’s pet turtle, Terri. It’s a sad story. Prepare to weep.
People who grew up with dogs are usually sympathetic to the plight of a child who longs for the companionship of man’s best friend, a loyal companion who would enjoy a run through the neighborhood, a game of fetch, a belly-rub, a snuggle.
|Uncle Renza Davis, Momma, her brother |
Orvin Davis, Jr. and Fritz
My mother always had a dog as a child. (I wrote about Fritz previously HERE.)
But contrary to the belief that once a dog person always a dog person, Momma refused to allow my sister or me to have a dog. No cat, either. What? Hadn’t she read the parenting magazines that promised having a pet would teach responsibility and compassion?
Momma did, however, give in and let us have a goldfish, four of them, actually: Pixie and Dixie, Charlie (no doubt named in honor of the popular StarKist tag-line “Sorry, Charlie”), and some other one whose name is long forgotten, probably something equally clever like “Goldie.”
Once we mastered goldfish-level responsibility and compassion, we moved up to Turtle. I was over the need for a pet by then, so Terri was Mary Jollette’s pet and her responsibility.
|Photo courtesy HA HA of|
my sister at age 6
Terri is the little brown thing on the left.
Terri had a bowl with a palm tree and colorful gravel. She could walk in a circle and enjoy the view from the ever-clouding plastic bowl. After awhile she quit walking. Her shell turned brown and soft. We thought she was dying, but our neighbor assured us this weird look was normal for such a turtle.
But eventually it was clear that Terri was not going to make it. She was buried in a box in the backyard. We held a funeral and we all cried.
|Mary Jollette on the right with her friend Susan.|
Terri is buried somewhere close to this area
under a fig tree that Daddy cut down.
After that traumatic experience, I understood the popularity of the pet rock. No tears for them!
Come out of your shell and visit Sepia Saturday to see what other bloggers have made of this week’s theme.