Late this afternoon, I picked up our tortoise, Trevor, from his run in the living room, and brought him to the kitchen in order to give him a bath. It was then that I made the shocking discovery that Trevor had very sadly died.
Trevor woke up from his hibernation in March this year, and it became clear pretty soon that he wasn’t himself. He was less active than normal, started eating less than usual, and just didn’t quite seem like the Trevor we knew and loved. I was excited to introduce him to Aly Cat (who came to live with us back in January), but – despite his longstanding affection for her older sister, Kit Cat – seemed oddly uninterested in the newest addition to the Al-Rufaie/Gregory household. On reflection, whilst today’s discovery certainly came as a shock, the signs had perhaps been gradually building up that all was not well.
Growing up, it’s somewhat of an understatement to say that I was not a pet person. That probably mostly comes from my parents, who were themselves resolutely not pet aficionados. Until the Summer of 2020, my sum total experience of pet ownership was a goldfish I owned as a child (called Spielberg!), who passed away after less than a week, having obviously been ill.
After purchasing our first house together in 2019, Katie began to float the idea of also buying a pet. In complete contrast to me, Katie had grown up around animals, and truly felt their absence in our shared lives. With a dog proving impractical with mine and Katie’s respective work schedules, the next most suitable option was a cat. But I – essentially a pet virgin, and almost entirely unaccustomed to the very concept of owning one – remained apprehensive, and unconvinced.
And then along came Trevor.
Trevor, a so-called Russian tortoise, was born in either 2012 or 2013. The fact that we never knew for certain actually speaks to a larger, sadder story. Trevor was looked after for the first 5 or so years of his life by a young girl who – through her own youth and irresponsibility – ended up neglecting Trevor. We had heard stories of him being left out in her garden unattended, before being attacked by curious birds. As soon as she discovered his mistreatment, the girl’s aunt took immediate ownership of Trevor, and then looked after him for the next 2 years. However, the aunt had never sought out to own a tortoise, and eventually began looking for a suitable new home for him. And, thanks to a mutual familial connection, that home turned out to be ours. No, I wasn’t ready for a cat – but I could tell how much owning a pet meant to Katie, and a tortoise certainly seemed more doable than a feline companion.
Trevor came to us on July 3rd 2020, at a time when the world was obviously in the throes of the COVID-19 pandemic. It was not hard to see the signs of our new friend’s earlier mistreatment – even gently stroking his head would typically cause Trevor to instinctively retreat into his shell, a behaviour he continued to exhibit until perhaps only the past year or so. And, as he warmed to the idea of his new home (and new owners), so too did I come around to the idea of being a pet owner. Eventually, I even began to look back upon my pet-free childhood and early adulthood, and recognise the huge missed opportunity that I’d unwittingly subjected myself to – one driven by parental attitudes, personal misconceptions, and fear. At the age of almost 34, I was a very late convert to the notion of pet ownership, and the vast benefits that such companionship can bring, and I honestly now can’t fathom just how alien the concept once was to me.
And Katie was ultimately proved right: Trevor was just the start. 4 months later, we welcomed Kit Cat into our lives, followed by Aly Cat at the start of this year – and I genuinely can’t imagine our lives now without them. The cats certainly grew hugely fond of Trevor, especially Kit – she could so often be found of an evening in the living room keeping a watchful gaze over Trevor’s run, and seemed to genuinely miss him when he would hibernate each Winter. Hilariously, Trevor appeared to be smitten with Kit too, and would often chase her around the kitchen, his lesser speed and size be damned! Even Sam grew to love Trevor, and – heart-warmingly – would always take the time to say goodbye to him before leaving for nursery in the morning. It all made for a wonderful domestic dynamic, one which I regret having missed out on for so many years.
I must admit that I was slightly dismayed to discover back in 2020 that, no, Russian tortoises aren’t like the giant Galapagos tortoises – they don’t grow to over 1.5m in size, and potentially live for close to 200 years. But their life expectancy is typically in the region of 40 years, and I had very much grown accustomed to that prospect in recent years.
Last week marked the 5th anniversary of Trevor coming to live with us, and I was genuinely looking forward to him getting to know Aly Cat better over the coming months. His sudden passing today has left me genuinely saddened, in a way that I never would’ve even fathomed prior to 2020.
I guess I just want to say – thank you, Trevor. Thank you for giving me something that I never knew was missing from my life. Thank you for your inimitable personality, and quiet companionship. Thank you for the gift of our two moggies, whom I’m almost certain we wouldn’t own if you hadn’t paved the way. Thank you for helping turn this dyed-in-the-wool sceptic into a pet person.
Sleep tight. x
Ramy’s World 