Okay, so here it is.....I got run over this week. I got run over this week by Frankie.
Next day I hear the song "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer." I felt a little ashamed.
Really, it was not all his fault. I still think of Frankie as my 25 pound tortoise I can carry in a basket. I forget he is a slow-moving, object-leveling, potentially dangerous 85 pound tortoise. It was my mistake.
What specific error did I make? I got between Frankie and a snack.
Frankie gets a carrot snack almost every day. I cut up a carrot into four or five bite sized pieces for him to eat.
"Frankie! Wanna treat?" and Frankie responds like a hot rod when the traffic light turns green. Frankie knows exactly what those words mean. Frankie, who is at the higher end of the yard heads my way in a huff. I decide to sit down on the ground.
The outside temperature was warm so I was wearing shorts. The sun is nice and warm so I stretched my legs out in front of me as I wait for Frankie to reach me.
Wearing shorts around Frankie is about as smart as riding a bull in a mini skirt. There is a very good reason cowboys wear boots, jean and chaps.
I am sitting on the ground getting my carrots sorted out. I put two carrots on my left side nearest the rapidly approaching Frankie and set the other three carrots on the right side of my legs.
Without thinking about it, I have put myself between Frankie and carrots.
Sulcata tortoises have a blind spot just under the chin. Did you know that?
Frankie is moving so fast that he misses the carrots on the grounds and instead aims for the carrots on the other side of my legs.
His left front foot digs deeply into my tender white thigh. This is going to leave a mark. Gasping in pain, I try stop him before his right front foot crushes my shin.
Lifting an 85 pound sulcata tortoise off my lap is just something I can't do. Tears in my eyes, I grab the three carrots and offer them to Frankie if he will back off. He retreats just enough to free my leg.
My newest Frankie wound looks like a vampire bite: Two very deep puncture on my upper leg. Blood oozes from the points every so slowly.
I say to myself, "Isn't the season for True Blood starting soon?"
Over the next few days, the puncture wounds swells up and shades of blue, purple and red spread out around it. Ouch at the touch.
Frankie is a changing hazard to which I must constantly adapt. He is
not aggressive, he doesn't mean any harm and he wouldn't hurt a flea. But, Frankie is an uncommonly heavy pet with unique destructive features. I just
have to be alert around him.
I haven't gone to the hospital because of Frankie.....yet.