In The Garden

"I'm nearly packed," I told my mom.

She had gotten her first National Science Foundation Grant and stipend to study science that summer of 1965.  This year she would study geology.

Our next door neighbor agreed to take care of Humphrey for us.  We would be gone for two months.  The grant paid a stipend for six weeks.  We would take one week to get out to Ephram, Utah and another week to come home.

Two months before, I saw my father back a U-Haul into our tiny Woodlawn driveway to pick up his things.  He and my mother were filing for divorce after twenty-five years of marriage.  I don't recall any affection between the two of them.  They did stand by one another and worked on a few projects around the house.  But Good Friday, 1965 was a day I would never forget.  No warning, no explanation.

In truth, it was a good thing my parents divorced.  Dad was not happy with mom and often would go months without speaking to me for no reason.  Mom was irritable, turse and lacked significant warmth.  However, she was a very good person and I learned a lot from her.

But the return from the trip would forever stay in my mind.  I was happy to be home, happy to begin my sophomore year in high school.  Happy to see Humphrey.

I ran into the house and looked for him in the tiny plastic water filled aquarium.  But the aquarium wasn't on the counter as it often was.  Just as I opened the back door to allow fresh air to come into the house that had been closed up all summer what I saw would be forever on my mind.

My cat greeted me quickly enough as she was outside waiting to come in.  I don't remember questioning her care which was to be done by our next door neighbor, Miss Mary.  I did see the cat food can sitting on the stove.  The plastic aquarium where Humphrey lived was also on the stove. It seemed quite odd to see Humphrey's house without him inside.  I suspected perhaps the aquarium had broken.   Inside that was an empty can of Ken-L-Ration.  That is what we fed our cat.  Atop the can which was filled with garbage was Humphrey.

Humphrey?!

How cold and callus.  Putting my expired and beloved turtle in a can with garbage underneath him.  Miss Mary was never my favorite person.  She and my mom shared a love of English literature - Chaucer, Agatha Christie novels and the like.  I don't remember her having a love of animals.  And, I certainly did not that day or for the rest of my life.

Clever.  That is what my Mom said of Miss Mary.  She found her a remarkably talented woman.  I found her totally devoid of warmth.

After my things were removed from our family car, I found a box for Humphrey.  I covered it with foil.  Even at age fifteen, you want to give your beloved turtle a proper send-off.  I laid him to rest, with a few prayers just outside our front door in the garden.

I think of Humphrey often.  Some fifty plus years later, I am still appalled about his demise.  Did Miss Mary forget to keep water in his shallow aquarium?  Did she forget to feed him?  I will never know the answers.  I do suspect she did at least one of the two.  Especially since he was found atop an empty trash filled can of Ken-L-Ration.

Humphrey Buck Turtle, I will never forget you.