ALL CREATURES GREAT, SMALL AND SHELLED

One hot Saturday in May almost nine years ago The Wife, The Kid and I opened the garage door, planning to go to lunch, and saw an impossibly cute chihuahua with black-and-white superhero markings wandering up the sidewalk across the street. The Kid and I coaxed her to us, and we took her to the Humane Society, where we determined she didn't have a chip. She was wearing a collar (no tag), seemed well-fed and was friendly and fearless, so it seemed like somebody loved her, but her origins remained a mystery. I hate to think about what her previous person or people may have gone through if she went missing.

I wish I could tell that person that she lived with us from then on, that from day one she acted like she owned the place, held her own with two other weird chihuahuas, and brought us inexpressible joy and fun. We gave her the name Sadie, which seemed to fit her perfectly. She was feisty and bold and rambunctious and mischievous but deeply affectionate; she loved a belly rub. She hated the sound of fireworks. I doubt that anyone else will ever make me feel as important as she did by the way she greeted me whenever I came into the house, barking in a loud, proclamatory way, as if to make it clear what a significant event my arrival was.

Sadie departed this realm Friday before last, after a struggle with kidney disease. Peace and joy eternal sweet little creature; we'll miss you terribly.

Some memories:

Here she is early on in her time with us, after a minor foot injury; doesn't it seem like Lily, in the background, is gloating?

At the animal hospital on Camelback we took her to, we spent hours with her seated in a big common area, where you couldn't help but overhear and invest in everybody else's pet crises. Most memorably, near us was a guy holding a beautiful Russian tortoise which was--cringe--impaled on a stick, a nasty splintery rotten-wood shard jammed between his neck and his right foreleg, going in how far it was hard to say. The staff got x-rays and were calling other clinics that specialize in reptiles to consult; they were understandably afraid that if they just yanked it he'd bleed out. For all I know the poor thing might have been in terrible agony; tortoises have a pretty stoic manner.

I finally couldn't resist asking "How did this happen?" as the guy sat waiting, looking distraught, and he shrugged and said "He just came out of his burrow that way." I guess he must have kept him in his back yard? Anyway, after Sadie took her leave of us and we were walking out of the place, blubbering and sniffling, I saw that they had the poor tortoise on a procedure table, and one of the aides was drawing lines on his carapace based on the x-rays.

This past weekend we went back to pick up Sadie's ashes, and I asked the woman who brought them out if she knew what became of the tortoise; she said he survived!

SHELL OR HIGH WATER

Happy October everybody! My favorite month, back again.

Plenty of opining by Your Humble Narrator, in case you have time on your hands: Check out my reviews of Free Solo and Marvel's Venom, online at Phoenix Magazine...

...as well as my "Four Corners" column on Valley gastropubs, and my short item about the abruptly announced demise and just as sudden revival of Pedro's Mexican in Glendale.

It's always a wacky adventure when my pal Vince Larue visits from Normandy.

Earlier this week we were heading up East Van Buren, along the back forty of the Phoenix Zoo, when we noticed a large object in the road—a turtle. We pulled into the parking lot of the Rolling Hills golf course and crossed two lanes of traffic to get to him. So much traffic went by in that time that I was sure he’d be turtle pizza by the time we reached him, but incredibly he was intact, plodding along calmly, almost to the far side of the road.

There was just a construction site there, however, with no water I could see, and since he was obviously an aquatic species of turtle I thought we’d better try to get him back to the lagoons at the rear of the zoo, from whence I’d guess he escaped; you can often see turtles sunning themselves there. It was tough to find a spot in the fence he could get through, but we finally left him at the bottom of a steep bank, near a muddy pool that led through an abutment under the fence. But not, of course, before getting a few testudine selfies...

 

Could I look any creepier? "Hey lady, y'wanna buy a turtle...?"

Hope he’s OK. It seemed like a better spot than where we found him, anyway.

SHELL IS FOR HEROES

With Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles tearing up the box office this past weekend (Friday, June 3, 2016 has already been announced as the opening day for Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 2) a chelonian creature seems in order, so…

Monster-of-the-Week: …here's the gigantic Archelon (“Ruler Turtle”) animated by Ray Harryhausen in 1966’s One Million Years B.C.:

Many years ago I read an anarchist comic with an uncharacteristic streak of self-deprecating wit in which the old professor had a tiny pet turtle, complete with dish and little plastic palm tree, named “Anarchelon.”