Today I met a pretty cute turtle named Troy. A friend of mine found him wandering around and decided to adopt him. Kind of. Where he's living, my friend can't have pets. So my oldest three nieces and nephews decided that they wanted to adopt Troy. Which was great! Except that we were at the dining hall, and home was a mile away... and we rode our bikes in. Obviously, none of the three of them could carry him, and their mom was already juggling two bags and had an occupied baby seat on the back of her bike. Logically, that left me to carry him home. Thankfully, there was a box available, and I'm fairly adept at riding a bike one-handed. Troy did make it home safely, although there were a couple of scares where I almost wiped out while trying to avoid over-enthusiastic kids.
Troy is a small box turtle. He's probably five inches long from snout to tail. But you can tell he's already lived quite the life. His shell has all sorts of cuts and dings in it, and is missing a section of the edge. One of his back claws is missing, leaving just a stub. He uses his tail to help compensate for his missing leg. Despite all that, he's still curious. Yes, he was scared at first when we picked him up and put him in a box. However, after a little while of not being messed with, he was quick to poke his head out. For the rest of the ride, he kept his head out, even when the rest of his limbs were tucked safely into his shell. I thought that was pretty interesting. It made me think of myself. When I get hurt, I tend to pull into a shell. But I need to let it go sooner, and be willing to peek my head out and enjoy the ride. That's what I learned from Troy.
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