Rest in Peace, Sweet Fuji

Fuji died January 12th, 2018. He was my pet turtle for nearly 10 years.

I’m not going to be able to write eloquently about my love for a reptile, so bear with me as I get through this.

No one really knew how old Fuji was. When I took him into the vet, he told me to count the rings on the back of his shell like a tree — each ring representing a year of life. Sure enough, he had over 30 rings, but could have been much older. The vet said there was truly no telling how old he could be.

All trees and turtles stop growing eventually, don’t they?

Fuji had beautiful markings all over his shell. Deep greens and yellow patterns that only happen in nature. He had bright red eyes, and little orange and yellow scales that went up and down his legs. When I saw him at the pet store as a young 20 something, I didn’t know all the ins-and-outs of turtle ownership. I did know however that I had met an animal that I could love.

Fuji was very ornery. He would hiss when I would come close, or hiss from across the room for no particular reason. I let him hide in the corners of my apartment, only to have to crawl under furniture to retrieve him later.

Fuji loved only organic blueberries and live mealworms. He’d tolerate things like lettuce and other regular turtle food, but he was a real foodie diva.

Sometimes, when I was having a particularly bad day with depression, I would place Fuji on my stomach and breathe slowly. He would stare, unblinkingly at me, and I would stare back at him as he slowly rose and fell. I had a confidant, an imaginary friend in a turtle body, a wonderful pet. I painted him once as a fire breathing goddess of the tropics.

Even though he was a man, he didn’t mind my theatrics.

Frankly, sometimes I was a shitty turtle owner. It was not my intention, I was never around reptiles growing up, but I definitely should have known better. I simply could not read a reptile. Once I left him with my boyfriend of the time and he got attacked by a dog. Other times I was never sure if I’m supposed to touch him as much as I did, or talk at him as much as I have done. I even left him with a friend for over a year while I lived in Germany.

I don’t know if the tank was too small, if I didn’t give him a balanced enough diet, or if he was happy. Can turtles be happy?

But he kept living and moving and didn’t seem too bothered. But if he was, I’m so sorry Fuji, if I hurt you.

I moved many, many times in my 10 years of being with Fuji. Every time we moved, he’d get an infected eye — It would close shut, causing him to lose his appetite. When I brought him to the vet the second time, Fuji peed all over the vet in protest. This was the first and only sign of affection I had ever seen from him. He never had peed on me, so I knew that perhaps he did love me after all — or at least knew me. I spent a week or so placing little delicate drops of antibiotics in his eye, until it slowly opened again.

These past couple of weeks Fuji simply stopped eating. His eyes weren’t glued shut, he still was drinking water, so I didn’t really know he was slowly drifting away until it was too late. I thought maybe he was hibernating — it was winter and all — but I had never seen him hibernate before.

Fuji was not affectionate like a mammal. He wasn’t overly ambitious. He was a turtle. He was my friend. He enjoyed dark, cool places in the summer and luke warm baths in his little bathtub.

I love you, Fuji. Thank you for keeping me company and being my pet, my friend, my secret keeper and a magical animal. I am in awe of you.

Rest in peace, sweet Fuji.