Yesterday I detected faint stratching noises from the box in the corner. It brought a certain amount of relief as it showed that Thunder the tortoise was on the move and had survived his mammoth winter snooze. I went to investigate and found him facing away from the opening so I turned him round and as the sun permeated his domain he tottered back out into the big world.
Thunder "fell asleep" on November 17th. The expression is usually reserved for those sleepers who aren't going to wake up again and there is always that uneasy feeling that after three months of oblivion, he indeed might not emerge in the same state that he dozed off. Happily however, he is definitely alive, living, sentient, with us.
A warm bath was called for with the fan heater blowing like the Harmattan across his little oasis. A good soak seemed just the thing to re-hydrate him and give him that feel good factor. After drying in the warmth he went back to bed to recover from the effort.
In spite of last night's sub zero temperature he was up this morning basking in the patch of warmth coming through the window. Breakfast was clearly called for and I raided the freezer for green beans and brocolli, just the thing to put some zip back into him.
Thinking of The Big Sleep it crossed my mind that Thunder does have certain characteristics in common with Phillip Marlow, that rather hardbitten, laconic, approach to life. He's been around, nothing surprises him and he likes the dames. Thunder doesn't get much opportunity to meet glamorous chicks with pouty red lips, blowing smoke seductively over him. He has to make do with the fan heater and a certain questionable relationship with a black lace-up shoe. It will take him a few days to stoke his boiler and then off he will go, chugging around his manor, watching, observing, a master of disguise - yes, he would make a good private eye.
Meanwhile, the weekly shop will now include tortoise treats - bananas, strawberries, salad, avocado and I'll have the pleasure of sharing the garden with him.
