The Dog Lady Blog

Occasionally one of the "kids" will bring a painted turtle home to our camp. I don't know which of the dogs is the turtle aficionado but regardless, I'll find the poor reptile after it's abductor has grown bored with Turtle's unsocial demeanor. The one I found this morning, though, is a baby. I
shot some video of him but you have to go to our Facebook or MySpace page by clicking to their link at the top of this page. A day in the life; different days, different lives. Back to the things that are important...

...Baby Turtle has some serious wounds (deep punctures on the top of his shell and a gouged out area in what would be our sternum as you see via our FB and MS photos/videos) but it's not really that bad on film. Since I'm not a "reptile person", I never thought of turtles bleeding but this poor baby is bleeding. Not massive blood loss but slow effusions, like a leak. He's bleeding a tiny bit from his mouth; it's murky, not straight blood. I remembered this morning while tending to Turtle my 7th birthday dinner. As I was waiting for my meal to arrive (at Pat's Steak House, Brownsboro Road, Louisville), I experienced an epiphany : the turtle soup and frog legs I was eagerly anticipated ordered were relatives of my creek dwelling friends. I was a very outdoorsy girl. My dinner consisted of living, breathing tangible creatures that I liked, that I would never hurt, let alone kill. I mean after reading "Charlotte's Web" in the first grade, which shattered me, I haven't killed spiders. I was the kind of kid that at 5 years when I'd see a rainbow, I'd plead with my parents to get in the car and find it's "pot of gold".

I've always believed in beautiful ideas. Blech.

With this kind early awareness, my aversion to eating things that had mothers was primal. I loved my Mother--I bet that frog I was about to eat loved his Mother (frogs, too, like most amphibians live in "packs"). I changed my order that night to a blue cheese wedge salad. Later that night, I threw up my birthday cake. My dad was The Great White Hunter and we had to eat every icky thing he killed. It was 1967 not 1767. He was always going all Daniel Boone on us.

Back to our Turtle...older turtles, as you know, have hard shells. Our ruptured reptilian baby has a still-soft-shell (and being smaller than a tennis ball, his whole body fits in a dog's mouth); as a result, he is incredibly vulnerable. And did you know that a turtle's "shell" is actually it's version of our ribcage? Everyone I've had more than ten seconds of conversation with today has had to learn this fun-with-nature-fact, too. But isn't it fascinating? Turtle's shell is his ribcage! It makes me think of the creature in "Alien" that attaches itself to John Hurt's face.

I always love rescuing, and thereby learning about, different creatures and the magic they each embody. Us included. Bats are another species I've rescued and they are fascinating. Much like us: warm blooded mammals that nurse their young and develop intense long lasting social, solid relationships. RARELY are they rabid and along with their other traits, they are gentle and shy
creatures. [Class dismissed.]

I'm going to call Dr. Barb Pepin (even though she's closed on Saturday I can call her cell phone) because I know she'll have the best remedy. I've got liquid antibiotic on hand that I could give him (with a dropper through his shell wounds) but I wonder: should I use liquid wound adhesive to reconnect his torn, gnawed chest/underbelly ? Or should I let the wounds breathe and allow Turtle's immune system to do it's thing?

I'll call the Louisville Zoo herpequarium right now and get their advice. I wonder how a reptile's brain registers pain? Surely Turtle is hurting.