If I haven’t said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times, sulcata tortoises don’t belong in the house. They are furniture-moving, wall-goring, floor-pooping, rug-peeing, shelf-toppling, bull-dozing menaces to interior human living spaces. ‘sit’s true.
Still Frankie is a regular visitor if not season snow bird and winter resident in my house….with all previous mentioned terrors that go with it.
I am a fan of Waffles the sulcata, our friend in the frozen North, and with every new photo I “awe” at the tiny Waffles’ cuteness. Concurrently there is this underlining horror as I image the 100 pound Frankie in the same photo. Run, Mango! Run!
I love Frankie as deeply as a human can love an animal friend so I do the stupid again and again, anticipating catastrophes as best I can and accommodating Frankie as reasonable as possible in spaces he should not be.
We are masters of cardboard when Frankie comes indoors.
Cardboard is great. It practically free and often arrives by UPS delivery. One can even hang out at the recycling center to scout out special or extra larger boxes. Yea, I’ve sat in the City of Mobile’s recycling center parking lot skulking about until someone arrives with car full of boxes to recycle.
Frankie’s dogloo is too big for our new gecko room so I had to come up with some new kind of box shelter for the 100 pound shell with bulldozer like feet.
Usually it’s just a large box that Frankie can fit in head first. Frankie’s protruding backside gets covered with newspaper or an old beach towel.
A cardboard box can’t be too narrow otherwise Frankie will rip it open when he does his morning turn around from face-in-the-box to face-out-of-the-box position. I’ve looked and looked to find a box that is deep enough to get the whole of Frankie inside, snug enough so Frankie feels like he is deep in a cave, and yet wide enough so the morning turn around doesn’t destroy yet again another box sending me back again to skulk about the recycling center.
Oh, I found this one box. I got this warm fuzzy feeling when I saw it. It was about four feet tall, a square 20 inches on each side. I snatched the box up and ran for the car before the recycle clerk could get out the operation office’s front door.
When I got home I cut it in half. I then removed one side off the top half. Testing my engineering theory, I slid the three sided top over the back half of the box. Viola! New Frankie Cave!
I put the new cardboard castle on top of a large anti-fatigue rug (to shield Frankie from the cold cement floor), stood back and admired my genius.
Later that day Frankie rambled in from outside, smearing poop on a rug and knocking a new dent in a …read more
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