A Turtle called Dove.

The thing about a turtle is that you never can tell what she is thinking. I mean, she mostly looks pretty glum, on account of her shrivelled features and all. Then you have the fact that she spends most of her time in her shell. This is hardly very conducive to any kind of contact let alone gaining an idea as to how she is doing in there.
If she is in there at all...
For it is a little known secret that turtles go walk-about. On occasion. When the fancy takes them. Usually when they are so bloody miserable that they just have to get away, anywhere will do.
So at least you know (when they aren't home) that things aren't going too well...
If, however (and this is more often the case, for a walk-about turtle is a rare thing) she IS at home and just hiding, then you have yourself a dilemma. Not being able to see her features (shrivelled though they may be, it does help to see some kind of a face) one has to wonder if she is in there on account of poor health, for meditational practises (this is something turtles do quite regularly actually. They like to seclude themselves from the world and ponder the meaning of It All) or possibly even Yoga (yet another little know fact about turtles; they enjoy Yoga. It does get quite cramped in there and a stretch does wonders for the body as well as the soul.)
I guess you could say they have spiritual tendencies. It all comes from the age old question they are sat with, namely the following; why in the name of Lords are we lumbered with this SHELL, tied to Earth like so many sacks of potatoes? When we'd much rather be swimming in the Deep Blue Sea, preferably somewhere near Aruba...
These are difficult questions to have to deal with.
Well, you ask yourself, if they are able to go walk-about, OUTSIDE of their shell, why don't they just stay there, OUTSIDE??
Ahh. If only it were so easy.
You see, a turtle isn't a turtle without her shell. If she were to just up and leave for good, what would she be? Who would know her as a turtle? Her whole sense of self would dissolve and she would be lost, afraid, unable to move on.
Now it is one thing to have one's Self dissolve during meditational practises in the safety of one's livingroom (or shell, as the case may be) and quite another thing altogether to have it dissolve out there in the Mad Mayhem that is Life as we know it.
So this is how she always does return to her little shell in the end, after a breather. Back to being a Turtle.
Do you think this is cowardly?
Her biggest dream is to swim in the warm waters surrounding Aruba (or just anywhere south of Florida will do), naked and free, yet she choses to remains in her shell...sometimes sad and unhappy and more often downright pissed off with Life.
Well, maybe this is cowardly, maybe this isn't. All I know is Turtle's aren't the only ones who do this, so don't go blaming them.
I have reasons to believe that a certain turtle however, called Dove, is rather to be admired for her choices.
She chose to take on a little foundling by the name of Delfinia, an ugly little screaming brat if ever there was one. Despite the fact that this would mean forever giving up any dreams of freedom in the sun, let alone a minor little walk-about round the local bog.
Instead she gave up all of this to look after a kid fairy who happened to be dumped on her doorstep one morning as she was hanging out her laundry. (Not hers, obviously. As a way of making some extra cash she had set up a small dry cleaning business called Orange Float. This was rather popular, there being a number of lazy-assed toads who were quite happy to have someone else do there washing). Anyhow, she did quite well for herself and even enjoyed the work, to a certain extent. At least it kept her busy.
As I was saying though, there she was, pinning up Jaccinta's green garters (Jaccinta being the local trollop of an obscure breed with bad taste to match) when she noticed a mewing sound coming from inside the rhododendron bush to her left. Peering inside cautiously (for fear of a mouse, her worst nightmare) she saw to her utter amazement a very small being with vague humanoid features, pointy ears and a raging tantrum.
Not being one to suffer tantrums gladly, she slapped the kid smartly around the chops until it stopped crying in surprise. After a brief pause, during which turtle and fairy regarded one another with vague distaste and not a little suspicion, the little one started to hiccup.
Figuring she would now have to deal with these as well, Dove sighed and collected the bundle into her arms (like Moses in the rushes Delfinia had been placed there before sunrise, by a mother high on crack and low on hope) and set about gently patting her back until the hiccups subsided.
By which time, Dove was a goner.
Not much given to romantic notions, she nevertheless felt an instant connection to this little slip of a thing, all helpless and smelly.
And that is how Delfinia grew up with a turtle for a mother.
All roads lead to Rome, you must know that by now and so the same goes for me; I too will get there, back where all things started, the come- uppance of a toad named Matt...it will just take me a while is all. By-roads and detours are all part of the pleasure of travelling and any way, what's the rush?