The other day I found a turtle in my backyard. I thought it was dead first but it turned out to be alive. Captain America wasn't home at the time of my discovery but when he got home he fed the turtle some fruit and decided he needed to find it's owner.
The neighbors across the street informed us that our new little friend is the "famous lost turtle of our neighborhood." Apparently, about 4 years ago, the people living in the house next door to us had two turtles and lost one when they moved. The lost turtle roamed the backyards on our side of the street. Our neighbors next door had been taking care of the turtle, feeding it and giving it water.
When we found the turtle the next door neighbors were in the process of moving. So my husband goes next door and says, "hey we found your turtle." Instead of being happy that we found their turtle, they respond, "um, well, um, he's not really ours, um, we're moving, so, um, yeah." Um yeah, they weren't taking the turtle back.
I know they put the turtle in our backyard on purpose. There is only concrete on the side where our house meets theirs. I know that turtle didn't push his way through the fence and then trek all the way over to our grass. I would put money that they put the turtle over in our yard so they wouldn't have to worry about it when they move. So now we have a turtle. Captain America calls him Mr. Turtle, I call him Albert, and Mickey is scared to death of him. She spends her time outside stalking him.
My Aunt is supposed to be taking custody of Albert. But she has yet to call me back to confirm this. Aunt? Aunt? Are you out there? Your turtle awaits you.