A Tale of Two Pets. Strawberry and Walter

Strawberry’s keratinous shell looked as if inlaid with precisely cut finger-nail-sized hexagon-shaped sapphires. The warm colors on her carapace glistened in the light as she heaved, nodding her block-like head up and down. Extending her wrinkled neck out from the safety of her shell put her narrow eyes on alert. Tiny holes in front of her head were straining for more air, and a soft hiss accompanied each breath. I ran my fingers under her smooth underbelly, trying to feel for a heartbeat. Being a heart doctor, it was my instinctive reaction. 

The shell was thankfully hard and firm. At least she did not have a mineral deficiency. She was resting on rough and brittle clumps of hay that had a subtle scent of the rich sap of soft velvety grass. The heat lamp pinned to the side of an empty fish tank warmed Strawberry’s nursery. I picked her up by her sides with my thumb and index finger and placed her on my palm. Her elephant-like hind legs pressed down as her armored front legs with thick scales began to move. I cupped my palms together to give her more room, and her sharp claws tickled my skin. She was warm. When we had rescued her a day prior, she was cold as a block of ice. 

Walter’s black beady eyes stared back at me as my gaze fell on him. He was wearing medieval knight’s armor, and his drooping ears with thick black fur made him look ancient and childlike at the same time. Walter’s bark had gone silent a few months ago; now, he was a portrait on the wall. Walter suffered from an enlarged heart that heaved with each beat and filled his narrow chest. Putting my ear close to his chest, I could hear the murmurs of his leaky heart valves. Death grew within him until the day I found his cold, lifeless body on the kitchen floor. I was standing at that exact spot stroking Strawberry’s shell, thankful for the life growing within her.