I was never as big on pets as say David was. I remember his budgies at Wooloowin, the lorikeets at Rockhampton and then the mixed birds and fish (sounds like a good menu item) at The Gap. I mean, if a dog attached itself to me, then OK he was my pet. But I don’t remember ever making it an passion. I guess it had something to do with my first attempt to make special contact with the animal world. We were in Rockhampton at out second house you know the one with the prickles all the way down the back yard. Well one day, I was down at the end of the street playing in the newly excavated area and throwing rocks into the dam caused by the earthworks and heavy rain. There were big rocks, flat rocks, round rocks, small rocks and even some rocks with legs. What!!! Mum! Dad! come quick, that rock moved. And so it was – I had my first pet, a real live turtle. What fun I had planed for my new petmate. What great new adventures we would embark on. I spent hours and hours setting up a pen in the old chook yard. Complete with pond and state of the art tea chest for his own cool pad. I was set for my own special thrill of being a pet owner. Now Autumn was drawing to a close and the trees were starting to lose their leaves, but my pet was OK he was in his home. Every day, I would rush home from school, grab some lettuce leaves and head for some quality time with my pet. After about two weeks of just standing at the gate looking into the tea chest for even the slightest sign of life, I thought, um , I had better ask Dad about this. Now I still can’t spell the word I heard that day but it didn’t sound good for my thoughts of an active pet life. I mean what’s the use of a pet if all it does is just sit there and not move for 6 months. If only the penny had dropped for me then, rather than for some other pet turtle owner in the 80’s Pet Rock
