I’m in love.  His name is Bob, and he’s handsome and funny and charming and witty and everything I’ve ever wanted in a man.

He’s also a turtle.  More precisely, a Box Turtle.  A friend of ours found Bob (or B-O-Bob as Rowan calls him) on a walk by her house, and brought it to Rowan to keep as a pet.  I know, I know, you’re not supposed to keep animals you catch in the wild, but Bob is better off with us.

I’ve developed a bit of an obsession with this reptile, going as far as establishing an inside AND an outside living quarters for him.  He’s got his own warming rock, and tanning booth(UVB light), and daily access to fresh fruit, vegetation, and worms.  Bob takes walks in the sun to stretch his legs, get some vitamin D (I mean really, who wants a depressed turtle?), and explore.  Really though, what is there not to love about this guy!?!?!!!

Rowan has shown more interest in B-O-Bob than his fish or even cats.  He’s very concerned that his buddy gets time outside of his bin, and yesterday he, on his own volition, cleaned out his old plastic pool, filled it, and grabbed Bob for a quick afternoon swim.  During Bob’s walks, Rowan stays close by his side, encouraging him with such gems as, “Come on, B-O-Bob, it’s not that far!”  and “Don’t go under the bush, you stinker!”  Oh, and there’s, “Come on, Bobby, Bobby, Bobby!  I’m right here.  You can do it!”  Rowan is a great turtle daddy.  Bob has come into our lives at just the right time.  Gram is doing slightly better, and we are able to get out more, and devote more time to things like bikes rides, and playmobil, and Bob.This post formatted itself in a very strange way, an for that I apologize.  To make up for it, I leave you with a picture of a couple of best buddies taking an afternoon swim.


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