Wilson

**This picture is a wanna-be Wilson, not the actual Wilson, but very similar.

I got a pet. Shocked, aren’t you? I have to admit that I’m a little shocked too. Those who know me well know that, while I don’t hate animals, I’m not animals’ biggest fan either.

When I went skiing a few years ago, we had such a long drive that we amused ourselves with car games for the entire ride. While I don’t remember all the rules for one specific game (Not the butt game – I remember ALL the rules for the butt game), I do know that it involved listing your favorites. Someone asked what my favorite animal was, and I had to say, “I don’t have a favorite animal. I’m not really all that into animals.”

Do you know what people do when you tell them that you aren’t that into animals? They go silent and look at you as if you just admitted you eat babies.

Like I said, I don’t hate animals. I am allergic to most of the fuzzy ones, and I’m a little scared of all the others.

But now I have a pet.

He is better than a lizard living under my couch or a possum in my laundry room. I actually claimed and feed him (instead of just naming him like I did the lizard, Stanley, and the possum, Oliver).

I am now the proud owner (or “momma,” as you pet owners like to say) of the cutest, tiniest, most adorable little turtle you’ve ever seen. Juleanne found the little guy hanging out in her parking lot at work, and she scooped him up to be mine forever. He is smaller than a quarter (amazing that Jules spotted him at all) and feisty. He’s grown stronger (if not bigger) since I got him last week. When I pick him up, he pushes against my fingers with his little claw-paws.

I was a little worried that I would kill him, but now that I’ve seen him eat, I am much more confident in my turtle rearing skills. I think we may have bonded over mealtime. When I open the top of his tank, he gazes expectantly up at me, waiting for his ReptoMin Baby floating food sticks.

Wilson Tyrone lives on the sunny corner of my desk at work. Attention is showered upon him by all the ladies at work (who, while they think he is adorable are too squeamish to hold him). I think I’ll take him home over the weekend, and back to work on Mondays. I get better light at work, and I’m here more than at home. I don’t want him to get lonely. Have you ever seen a lonely turtle? Not pretty.

I wanted to name him Tyrone, but my friends told me that he’d never be able to live up to the name of a large black man. I thought that was what made the name funny. Juleanne told me that I should call him Wilson. Since I live alone, he could be my reptilian version of Tom Hanks’ volleyball in Castaway. So Wilson Tyrone was christened.

When we’re joking around, he is Willie T. When he gets in trouble, I bust out both names and chastise him with a stern, motherly “Wilson Tyrone.” When we’re at work in the Tech Comm building, he is Tech Comm Willie. One of the girls downstairs calls him Turty.

So now I am responsible for another living thing. I’m a pet owner, a turtle caretaker, and reptile Momma…and a proud one at that.