Behold the Turtle

Published in the Idaho State Journal in September, 2013.

My pet box turtle joined my family 30 years ago after a trip to the Noah’s Ark pet store at the Pine Ridge Mall in Chubbuck. They told us he was a girl, but I learned differently when he showcased his manhood during a show and tell at school a couple months later. Billie is a gender neutral name, so I decided Myrtle could be, too.


For years I longed for a pet but due to allergies and my mom’s slight income, I was limited to a Strawberry Shortcake doll and a Good Luck Care Bear. I was so excited at finally having a pet that I immersed myself in turtle ownership.

I became known as the “turtle girl.” Within Myrtle’s first year, I had accumulated over 100 turtle figurines, trinkets and stickers. I snuck him in the suitcase on a trip to Yellowstone. I carted him around the neighborhood in my bike basket, and I built houses for him out of Lincoln Logs. He loved hanging out with Strawberry Shortcake and Good Luck Care Bear but not in a snow fort.

At school I wrote poems, short stories and essays about the wonders of a pet turtle. They don’t bark, shed, claw the furniture or make messes in the house. I caution parents before running out and securing a reptile, however, because they are plenty of work, and you’ll be in for a lifetime commitment.

For Myrtle’s first birthday, I wanted to wear my love of turtles around town and share it with everyone. I switched into helpfulness-overdrive to earn money for a turtle T-shirt. When I’d earned enough mowing lawns, hauling firewood and babysitting, I rode my bike to T-Shirts Plus at the same mall to buy a custom-made shirt. I already had in mind that I would put “I [heart] TURTLES” on the back with some sort of turtle screen on the front.
The only decal in the shop was a cartoon that said “Behold the turtle: It makes progress only when it sticks its neck out.” Perfect.

My dad died when I was 13 and my mom when I was 28. Myrtle has been in my life longer than either of my parents. He’s my rock. He’s the impetus for my two tattoos. He’s a source of whimsy and identity and he’s captured in my turtle-loving license plate.

Last April when the Pocatello City Council held hearings regarding an ordinance prohibiting discrimination based on gender expression and sexual orientation, the Journal received an influx of letters to the editor. One was written protesting an out of town influence appearing at the meetings. The author recounted stepping out of a council session and into the parking lot to note the license plates of the vehicles in attendance. He spoke in disgust of plates from different counties and states as well as the number of vanity plates that left him wondering who these supporters were.

As his words settled into comprehension, my rock, my whimsy and my identity transformed into a target.

I’m not sure if the author’s intent was to evoke a panic in many supporters of the ordinance, but he did. I talked with a number of friends and acquaintances who considered removing stickers or other identifiers from their vehicles after his letter appeared. Some actually did. We felt branded, and for me, there was an additional unsettled feeling in having something I loved used against me.

I can’t get a new license plate. I won’t get a new license plate. It has been my plate for 17 years, and it makes me happy. You just can’t let people take away your happy.

The truck with the TURTLVR license plate is mine. I have been a lifelong Bannock County resident and lived in Pocatello for the last 37 years. My turtle has been here for almost as long. We both love Pocatello. We are not outside influence, and we have learned a lot about sticking your neck out in the quest for progress. It’s worth it.