On Saturday we were driving home from pizza, all four of us in the car, when we saw a man in front of the neighbor’s house holding a flailing tortoise. It was an Igor-sized tortoise.
“Pull over!” I told Silas. I hopped out of the car. “We lost our tortoise!” I told the man. “That’s probably it!”
“No hablo Ingles” he said. But he didn’t seem overly eager to continue holding the tortoise. He told me it had been crossing the street. I think that’s what he told me. He put it in my hands. Definately the right size to be Igor. There was a red splotch on his back, but someone might have put that there during the two months Igor was missing.
“Muchas gracias!” I said to the man. He smiled and continued on his way to where ever he had been going. So Silas pulled the car in at our house, and we all gathered around Igor. We sort of agreed it was probably Igor. It’s hard to tell with tortoises. But what are the chances that an Igor-sized tortoise would be crossing the street right next door to us? We welcomed Igor back with warm words of affection. He pooped, and it splattered all over my pants.
So I put him in the enclosure in the back yard that we had been getting ready for the dog, in case we ever need to leave her securely in the back yard. The wire fence holes were too small for a tortoise to get through. Igor crawled around it for a while, then hid under the dog house. It was just the right size for him under there.
For three days, I brought him lettuce and carrots, tipped the dog house up, picked Igor up, and put him by the food. On the fourth day, I tipped the dog house up and he was gone. No more tortoise. I don’t know how he got out. There are no holes dug under the fence.
We wish Igor well, again, assuming that that was Igor. I guess he can take care of himself. Perhaps he will visit us again sometime. Frankly, I’m happy to think of him out there exploring the world, as he so dearly seems to want to do. It’s a dangerous world, true. But better to die out on an adventure, I guess, than hiding under a dog house.