The turtle drama

Mum, I want a dog!", my sons have been saying since they could talk. They now say it in a less commanding tone, but with unbroken longing. Since, according to dog owners, dogs are the equivalent of a third child in terms of care and financial outlay and are generally stuck with mums, I continue to struggle with the idea of getting a dog - and am thinking more about getting rid of the children.

While Caspar's desire for a dog remains uncompromising, Ben's provisional no to a dog is by no means the end of the story. «If not a dog, then at least a cat ...», he tries again. But his father's cat allergy throws a spanner in the works, as cat hair sticks to the children's clothes even in separate households, despite the regular use of washing machines, and triggers allergic reactions.

«A rabbit then!» Ben continues. Our landlady waves him off. Rabbits dig deep holes in her manicured lawn, the rest of the time in small rabbit hutches would be animal cruelty. Ben counters continuously: Justin Bieber's capuchin monkey, for example, can romp around freely in his flat, and could even sleep in his bed here, he even washes his own bed linen from now on. Of course!

Too little cuddly mass

I know that cuddling releases happiness hormones and would at best reduce Ben's chocolate consumption, but I still don't want a pet pig (although George Clooney supposedly has one), I already have two. Only guinea pigs, hamsters and rats are out of the question for Ben. Too little cuddly mass.

While the earthly existence of common pets is usually over within a childhood, you have to remember that turtles can live up to 130 years!

An evening at the cinema with «Teenage Ninja Turtles» finally brings the decision. The animated turtle warriors seem to exude a certain militant strength, something like the invincibility of an eternal animal. While the earthly existence of standard pets normally comes to an end within one childhood, you have to remember that turtles can live up to 130 years! The oldest tortoise is even said to have lived to 190, which means that when Ben turns 40, these things will have just reached puberty?

Just in time for Holy Communion, quasi in convergent symbolism of a lifelong agreement with higher powers, Ben becomes a proud turtle owner at the age of nine. The pet shop gives us forms for the veterinary office, which still lie unfilled in the kitchen drawer among the instructions for use. The pet shop owner says something about «hahaha yes, till death do you part». But how is a nine-year-old supposed to understand what adults rarely manage to do, even at the altar?

When Anais became Pierre

Today, Ben's tortoise is four and a half years old. It is called «Usain Bolt», after the Jamaican sprinter and eight-time Olympic champion. Contrary to scientific knowledge that the sex of a Greek tortoise is not recognisable until it is at least two years old, Ben was sure from the start that it was a boy.

The whole thing reminded me of myself a long time ago, when I found a cat on the street in Paris that I really wanted to call «Anais». It was only after I moved home that it turned out Anais was a cat, my father called him Pierre, at least he stayed French. Ben was right about Usain: He's a bloke and faster than we can look.

My mother still remembers exactly how neighbourly turtle hunts used to end with far too many drinks.

Usain's adventurous spirit means that helpful neighbours have to search their gardens for Ben's tortoise at regular intervals. Just recently, I put up «Missing!» posters on trees, street lamps and ice-cream parlour windows, including my phone number.

A few people got in touch. One of them was an Afghan refugee who wanted a «toad for a child». (At least not for his soup.) After two weeks, a pretty neighbourhood girl rang the doorbell and brought Ben's turtle back. Ben couldn't get a word out, but thanked her with chocolate the next day.

«They come back every time!» moans my mum. She still remembers exactly how neighbourly turtle hunts used to end with far too many drinks, which my parents had spent as a thank you for helping to find them. (In case any of my neighbours are reading this, there are still drinks to thank them for!)

A turtle between a ham and a butter dish

Last summer, Ben Usain was furious. His pet had presumably killed his smaller conspecific, which he had bought especially for him. The tragic, far too early death of the second tortoise, which simply lay lifeless in the terrarium one morning, remains unexplained to this day. As soon as she left her house to eat, the love-struck sprinter pushed himself over her little shell. I always took him out of the terrarium until she had finished eating. It was at least sexual harassment at the dinner table. Ben wept bitterly over the death of the smaller one and we planted heather on her grave.

Since then Usain has been single again. He is currently hibernating, we are not storing him in the fridge (as many turtle owners do). After all, in his natural habitat in the Mediterranean it doesn't get colder than 10 or 15 degrees in winter. Ben fears that he wouldn't survive in the fridge at 8 degrees between the ham and the butter dish.

Turtles and teenagers are the perfect match.

My sons still want a dog. But a dog doesn't go for walks under the bed between stuck banana peels and crumbs of milk slices, a dog doesn't sit unnoticed for days on end in a pile of individual socks behind the radiator. Dog piles on maths books would also be much harder to cope with than Usain's, who feeds on a few lettuce leaves and some cucumber and takes care of his needs in a completely odourless way.

In this respect, turtles and teenagers are the perfect match. They chill out together between bags of crisps and growing piles of laundry and forget that the other exists.