The kids from across the street came running over after school. As I unloaded the dishwasher, I was vaguely aware of them huddled with Baby Boy in the kitchen. I was too tired to try and interpret their whispers. Within minutes they were running out the door, anyway.
Minutes after they were gone, I hear a scraping on the floor. The dog was busy licking the cabinet, so it wasn't him.
I peered around the corner.
There was a turtle there. A TINY TURTLE.
They came running back.
"What is that?" I pointed at the small object by the stool.
"Oh, that's Patrick. We found him in the road on the way over," they explained. Duh. And they were off again.
Before the dog tired of the tasty cabinets and went looking for something more lively to eat, I popped the turtle into a cup.
A teacup turtle.
I am not sure what to do next, but I think baby turtles may be the new labradoodle. You heard it here first.