My love for turtles and tortoises goes back to my early childhood. My father, who was a police officer at the time, came home on his lunch break and told me to extend my hands. Always wary of fathers tricks, I hesitantly put my hands out, palms facing up. Dad, wearing his perfectly pressed uniform complete with his favorite Smith and Wesson on his hip, delicately placed a tiny, baby red eared slider in my hands. "I arrested this little guy for jay-walking" He said. "The jail is full, so you'll have to take care of him for me."

I was in awe. This tiny little thing, my responsibility. All mine. He was so cute, so innocent, so vulnerable. Dad and I quickly went to work making him a home in an old aquarium. We put an old terra cotta dish full of water in there so he could have a little pond. We collected grasses, lettuce and and some fish flakes for him to eat. I was going to give him all the love and attention a turtle could handle.

"What's his name?" Dad asked.
"Umm... " I gave it a good 5 seconds of thought before settling on the name of my favorite cartoon character.
"Speedy" I said. "Speedy Gonzalez"
My dad smiled, holding back a chuckle. "Nice name"
I was too young to see the irony.

Anyway... I am still in love with these beautiful animals. That's why this story gave me a bittersweet smile today. I'm happy that they found the "little" guy, but sad that my grand kids may never see one with their own eyes. I worry that my grand kids and great grandkids may only know what turtles are from the knick-knacks and jewelery I pass down.