My friend Liz’s tiny turtle, Treynilla, was a good pet. She was quiet and never fussed. One of my fondest memories of Treynilla was when my roommate and I turtlesat for her. We didn’t want her to be lonely so we tore out pictures of tropical fish from a National Geographic and taped them to the outside of her tank (I’m pretty sure we were stoned). She stood on her turtle-sized island and stared at those fish like a general marshaling her troops.
When Liz evacuated before Hurricane Katrina, she left Treynilla behind because of course she thought she’d be back in a few days. But then she couldn’t come back and a week after the storm she was watching the news, just like the whole world was watching the news, and she saw her apartment building burning down. Half the city was underwater but there was no water to put out the fire, so she watched it burn, just like the whole world watched it burn.
Treynilla may have been the hurricane’s tiniest victim but I like to think she was one its mightiest. I like to think she went down fighting, like a ninja.
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The Great American Cooking Project
Notes from others: