Yes, Ma'am! My intentions are entirely honorable. I just want to make sure the lady here doesn't lose her balance. That's all.

Yes, Ma’am! My intentions are entirely honorable. I just want to make sure the lady here doesn’t lose her balance. That’s all.

My intentions were honorable. Let’s get that straight from the start.

I saw a creature in obvious distress and I had the time and willingness to help it.

Rex is obviously stuck. Fluffy is only trying to help him get unstuck. Fluffy is such a Buddhist.

Rex is obviously stuck. Fluffy is only trying to help him get unstuck. Fluffy is such a Buddhist.

What I didn’t have was:

1. sufficient understanding of how wild a wild turtle can get when it confuses a “rescue” mission with a “kidnapping.”

2. the proper bullet-proof container Β humane carrier and protective gear to keep both me and the turtle from scaring each other out of our shells.

3. nearly enough sedatives for anyone involved in this particular Lord Have Mercy Mission.

Let me explain what happened.

Philip and I were taking Scrappy for a walk around our neighborhood a few days ago. It was very hot and sunny.

Both Philip and Scrappy spotted a freakishly huge, hopefully non-snapping turtle parked near the curb adjacent to our driveway. I thought it was a Smart Car boulder.

Put a set of windshield wipers and a horn on the thing, and you could register it. Okay, maybe it wasn't that big.

Put a set of windshield wipers and a horn on the thing, and you could register it. Okay, maybe it wasn’t that big.

No really. Its shell was about 12 inches long and 10 inches wide. This critter did not come from some kid’s hobby aquarium. Since there are no ponds, swamps, rivers, lakes, or oceans within turtle-walking distance, it must have been plotting the annihilation of humans in the sewers with its brother and sister freakishly enormous turtles and just got stuck on a recon mission. Other than that totally plausible theory, I have no idea where this gargantuan thing came from or where it was headed.

Since it wasn’t a cat, Scrappy wasn’t that interested in chasing it. Plus it wasn’t moving when it sensed us near it, so he just sniffed it and thankfully didn’t pee on it.

When you gotta go, you gotta go.

When you gotta go, you gotta go.

Phil picked it up and moved it from the road onto the grass, hoping it would head for our neighbor’s garden. Our neighbors aren’t all that friendly and could use a little–or big–company.

But it was stiflingly hot and, even though turtles and I have never been mutually attracted to each other–especially turtles that could overthrow the world–this critter needed help. I know enough about reptiles that they need moisturizers to keep them looking and feeling their best. I wanted to help it. It’s the Buddhist in me.

See? I'm not a complete reptile dolt. Wait. That didn't sound right...

See? I’m not a complete reptile dolt. Wait. That didn’t sound right…

As we finished up Scrappy’s walk, we noticed the turtle was back on the pavement. That was a turtle with a definite plan. There is a sewer grate not far from our drive way.

Aha! Either my Turtle World Domination theory was accurate or the innocent (but stunningly large) turtle was looking for water. In either case, I needed to get that thing away from the pavement/sewer grate and into a more natural and safer-for-the-world environment.

When I'm not writing, blogging or quilting, I'm thinking up ways to save the world while wearing the skimpiest outfits possible. Someone has to do it.

When I’m not writing, blogging or quilting, I’m thinking up ways to save the world while wearing the skimpiest outfits possible. Someone has to do it.

Philip began referring to it as “my turtle,” as in, “When we get back, get a box and take your turtle to a marsh.”

That’s what I did.

I felt confident that I could handle this responsibility.

Why? Because:

1. I am something of an animal whisperer. When I whisper, they notice. They may not always do what I whisper, but I have pretty good luck with animals. Turtles are animals, too. Sort of. Right?

2. Even if the turtle didn’t understand my soothing assurances that I was really helping it by putting it a cardboard box and carting it around in my car, I was confident it would do what turtles do when they are scared: hide in their shells. “My turtle” would be a quiet passenger. I was sure of it.

How could I be so sure? I'm a Highly Sensitive Person. I feel this way most of the time, People.

How could I be so sure? I’m a Highly Sensitive Person. I feel this way most of the time, People.

3. I had golly gee whiz super-duper good intentions. With that much good will on my side, what could go wrong?

So I set off in my Prius, with Ginormous Turtle in a large box in the back of my car. The trip, I estimated, would take about 20 minutes. I had the perfect wet-lands destination in mind where I would set “my turtle” free and it would swim or plod off into its new, moist and welcoming habitat. I only wish someone from Animal Planet were there to film my act of Turtle salvation.

I was going to take more pictures, but Ninja Turtle had other plans...

I was going to take more pictures, but Ninja Turtle had other plans…

I was all smiles. Until I wasn’t.

Stay tuned to see what happened…or didn’t as the case my be. HINT: Turtles and Blondes with the Best of Intentions are not as predictable as you might think.