Paradise Lost

PARADISE LOST

“Where is he?” I asked.

“Who?” replied Ramey.

“Paradise.”

He looked around, as if just noticing that our 70 pound Sulcata tortoise, Paradise, wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

“I have no idea.”

I looked at him horrified, worst case scenarios spinning through my head.

“I asked you to bring him in, this morning before I left for work.”

I walked to the back door, scanning the yard.

Ramey looked confused.

“You did?”

“I did. You were playing video games. You said you would as soon as you beat the level.”

“I did?”

I was getting frustrated. “Yes, Ramey, you did. That was eight hours ago! Where is Paradise?”

He shook his head, looking a bit panicked. “I don’t know!”

My eyes darted around the yard. In the far corner was a pile of dirt. I ran to the pile. There was a hole dug under the fence, into the neighbour’s yard. I scanned their backyard.  

No Paradise. But I saw another pile of dirt. I hopped the fence and ran over.  

Oh no! Another escape under the fence, this time to the road.

Was Paradise lost? You betcha.

*****

Paradise had been found in the luggage of a man returning from Africa. The only reason he’d been found was because the TSA screener had noticed something moving in the bag as it was being x-rayed. When asked by border security where he had gotten the tortoise, all he would say was “paradise”. The name had stuck.

Ramey and I work with the local animal shelter, which is also the go-to shelter for live animals seized at the airport. We were one of abut eight emergency foster homes that are used by the shelter. We’ve fostered momma cats and her newborn kittens, pups whose mother had been hit by a car. A dog never claimed after a fight. Lots of birds that people have tried to smuggle in, fish — surprisingly lots and lots of live fish from more exotic locales. Once a new born chimp that we only had to keep overnight until a more qualified foster home could be found. We’d also had our share of reptiles and turtles, but Paradise was our first tortoise. 

And, we were foster fails — we adopted him. When he arrived at our door four years ago, he was fairly young, maybe a couple of months old. I could easily carry him around like a football. And he grew. And grew. And grew, until he reached his current weight of about seventy pounds. Not so easy to carry. But, he was still young. We were told to expect him to possibly top out at about a hundred pounds. 

As he grew, we saw his personality develop as well. We were enamoured. You don’t adopt a tortoise because you want to cuddle, but he definitely knows that we are his people, and we are here to do his bidding. Paradise knows when his meals are served. He knows when he goes outside — in the morning, the afternoon, and then again after dinner. He’s litter trained, and he has his bed and sand pit. He comes when called — eventually — he is a tortoise, after all. And he will sit with either Ramey or I, nudging our leg when he wants his head rubbed. He was an important part of our family — we love him and we liked to think that he loved? liked? was fond of? us, as well.

*****

And now Paradise was lost.

Ramey came into the backyard.

“Maybe he didn’t get out,”

I looked at him.

“He dug a hole and didn’t escape?”

Ramey and I both bent over and looked out through the tunnel, where a trail dirt with tortoise prints in it lead away, towards the street.

We jumped over the fence and headed in the direction of the dirt trail. I was so worried. He was a big boy, but not that colourful. What if he wandered out into the street? What if he was hit by a car? What if he was dead? I couldn’t bear the thought.

We knew that tortoises were diggers. That’s why they have those flat front feet wth the wicked claws — to dig. And dig he had. We should have reinforced the fence line to keep him in the back yard. We were horrible tortoise owners.

And now we had no idea where he was. Or how long he’d been on the lam. Tortoises moved about one mile an hour. Taking into consideration the time spent digging, say at least four hours — that was how long he'd been wandering.

I looked at Ramey, panic setting in.

“If he took four hours to dig his way out, then he can be anywhere in a four mile radius. Four miles! FOUR MILES! We’ll never find him!”

“Okay, okay, okay!” said Ramey, running his hands through his hair. “He’s missing. Let’s call our vet, and let her know. And the SPCA. And the local vet offices, in case someone found him, and took him there.”

I felt the tears welling in my eyes. “What if someone took him and is going to keep him?”

“We’ll put up flyers, and hit social media — let the world know that our tortoise had escaped and that we want him back!”

“What if he’s dead?” I wailed, tears flowing down my cheeks. “Hit by a car, all alone, dead on the side of the road.”  

I couldn’t help it. I started to sob. Ramey gathered me in his arms, hugging me tight.

“He’s okay. I know he is. It’s going to be okay.”

My heart wanted to believe him, but it was a mean old world out there.  

“What if someone found him, and ate him? People eat tortoises, you know!” 

I was in a full-on meltdown. 

Ramey held me at arm's length, looking directly into my eyes. “Tala, you can’t think like that. We both need to concentrate on finding Paradise. Falling apart won’t help him.” He tilted my chin up so that I had to look into his eyes. “You want to find him, right? Well let’s go find him.  You look around, and I’ll make some calls. Okay?”

I wiped my eyes, took a big breath, and squared my shoulders. “Let’s do this!”

I started walking in the direction of the dirt trail.

“Paradise! Par-a-dise! PAR-A-DISE!” I called. I have no idea why I thought that would work — he was a tortoise. I was walking considerably faster than he could ever hope to go. It wasn’t like he would hear me, and come running out to greet me. He wasn’t a dog, he was a tortoise, for God’s sake. And he had escaped from our backyard, and was humping around somewhere, in danger.

“You lose your dog, lady?”

There was a little girl, maybe eight or nine years old. She was standing on the front lawn of what assumed was her house.

“No. My tortoise.”

She cocked her head at me, confusion writ large on her face.

“Your what?”

“Tortoise.”

“What’s that?”

I stopped, and smiled.

“A really big turtle.”

“Ohhh,” she said said. “What colour is it? Green?”

“No, not really. He’s brown with yellow and gold flecks on his shell. Here, let me show you—” I pulled out me phone and scrolled until I found a picture of Paradise, sitting on the couch with Ramey. I showed the little girl.

“I saw him today, at lunch.”

My heart beat in my chest. Hope! I had hope!

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m home from school today because I’m sick, so I was looking out the window, and I saw him walking along the fence.” She pointed across the road.

“Which way?”

She pointed down the street.

“Thanks!” I yelled running towards where she had last seen my boy.

I was walking briskly down the street, looking under hedges and bushes, looking for signs of digging, when my phone rang. Ramey.

“You found him?” I asked without preamble.

“No. You?”

“Found a kid who saw him on Totter Street. I’m checking the bushes to see if he’s holed up some where. Maybe knock on some doors. Hold on, I’ve got another call.”

I clicked through.

“Is this Tala?”

“Yes?”

“This is Dr. Abrams, Paradise’s vet.”

My heart leap, but fear gripped me.

“Is he hurt? Is he dead? Oh my God, tell me he’s okay!”

“As far as I know, Paradise is just fine.”

She explained what she knew. I hung up, and clicked over to Ramey.  

“Come get me. I know where Paradise is!”

*****

We arrived at an address about a mile and a half from where I had seen the little girl, ran up the steps, and knocked on the door.

A woman answered the door, smiling.

“You must be Paradise’s people. I’m Cath. Come in.”

We walked into her living room, and there Paradise was, happily munching some hay and flowers. Ramey and I ran to him. He might have been excited to see us. Or not. No way to tell. He doesn’t have a tail like a dog. But we both hugged him and rubbed his nose.

And there was another tortoise in the room with him.

I looked from the woman to Paradise and back again.

“You have a tortoise?”

She smiled. “I do. Meet Deja Vu. She just keeps doing the same things over and over again, so we called her Deja Vu, Deja for short.”

“Her?” I looked at Deja. “And she’s a Sulcata, like Paradise?”

“She is.”

I was still confused.

“How did you find Paradise?”

Cath smiled. “Actually, I didn’t find him. He found me. Or, rather, he found Deja.”

We must have looked unsure.  

“It was just after lunch, and Deja was in the backyard, and I heard this thumping noise. Worried that Deja might have gotten herself trapped, I went outside. That’s when I heard a banging on the wooden fence. I opened the gate, and there was Paradise. He made straight for Deja.” She smiled. “I put her in the house before …”

I nodded, knowing what she was saying.

Ramey looked horrified.

“Uh, Paradise was … uh, … looking for a date?”

“That’s what I assumed. So I removed her to the house. But, once I offered Paradise some food, he seemed more interested in eating than, shall we say, in dating Deja.”

Ramey rubbed Paradise’s shell. “Buddy!”

“So, you think he came all this way to meet Deja?”

Cath shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe?”

I was still confused.

“But how did you know who we were?”

“Well, I figured that there are only so many veterinarians who specialize in tortoises, so I called my vet, Dr. Abrams, and luckily, she knew who Paradise was. He has a small notch on the back of his shell.”

Ramey nodded. “Right. He tried to climb over a much bigger rock when he was young, and ended up tipping over, and nicking his shell.”

I rubbed the damaged area of his shell, smiling, remembering.

But, it was time to get Paradise back home. I stood up, and offered my hand to Cath.

“I don’t know how to thank you. We were so worried. I’m so glad that you found him — or rather that he found you — someone who loves tortoises as much as we do. Thank you!”

Cath smiled. “My pleasure. Hopefully, he doesn’t try this again.”

“True!” said Ramey.

We loaded Paradise into the back seat of the truck.

I leaned back on the awR, feeling completely relieved. I closed my eyes.

“Paradise was lost, but found again.”