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Another steamy, sultry Southern day. The temptation to get into mischief was as plentiful as poison ivy, as sweet as the honey suckle on the fence and as tempting as the apple in Eden.

There I was, back sunning on my beloved terrace, having promised to give up hunting the Eastern Box tortoise in a plea bargain of sorts, in order to be freed from the pokey. You see I almost choked to death on a small turtle and now my parents are worried that if I tried to choke another down, the outcome might be fatal. As you all are aware our garden has a plethora of these delightful creatures- all of whom I have the greatest admiration. They are somewhat prehistoric, old as Methuselah -among other things- and to many cultures, turtle dishes are viewed as a luxury or delicacy. It says so in Wikipedia, so that makes it true…right?

My parents are in rather a quandary as to why I feel the need to hunt the tortoise. It seems that’s none of their past bullies have had the desire to hunt.

There on the terrace, I day dreamed of being called “Striker” or “Lightening”, “Super Sonic” or even ” Mach 5″ not to be confused with “mock” turtle. I mean I’m slower than a turtle running through peanut butter- said this bully NEVER!!! Then the odor of tortoise assailed my delicate nostrils and I bounded off the terrace at Mach speed as my parents raced after me in hot pursuit. I was unencumbered by a leash, my short legs seem to lengthen, visions of Secretariat spurred me on ( after all, we ARE both chestnuts with white legs and a blaze) As I pulled further ahead of my parents, one length, two lengths- it was surreal as I got my stride and went into overdrive heading straight for the smell of turtle #21. I dove into the vinca to claim my prize!
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Oh my, I was taken a back, this tortoise actually glowed gold . Could it be? Was he the “Golden One”? I’m just certain that he was the Tortoise King. And, being the honorable gentleman bully I am, I paid homage to him before I bagged him! Mom took this photo. See he IS GOLD!
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Later that evening I nabbed number 22- much to my parents chagrin!
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And,this morning, number 23 was added to my collection.
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I didn’t get put back in the pokey because I didn’t get into the Poison Ivy and I also allowed Mom and Dad to take possession of my found prizes before I put them in my mouth. In other words….

I NAB THEM THEY GRAB THEM.
SHEESH!

HANGING TEN TURTLE!

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