Bad Grandma and the Turtle
by Ruth Johnson
I had been neglecting my young Florida grandson. In order to rectify this "bad Grandma" error, I decided to write a story for him. Here goes.
When I go to visit my son and family, they insist on my staying with them. Their living space is quite limited. The only available place for my roll around cot is in grandson's bedroom. My bed is on the floor and his sleeping area is elevated with boy things below. And there is the turtle in an aquarium, a long time companion to the boy.
One night while the boy was spending an overnight with a friend, noise woke me out of a sound sleep. Scratching, deep scratching on glass. Please don't let there be trouble with the turtle while he is not there to help. I went to see what I could do. When I got there, this what I heard.
"All I do is go from one side to the other. The other guy who was here with me suddenly disappears. There is no one. I look out the window. Same old. And the boy pays less and less attention to me. I know it would kill me to scratch my way out of this cage but I can't stand living another day like this."
I realized I had become the world's first turtle whisperer. And I can't eat turtle soup.