A Numbing Start

A nightmare about being late to class or to an exam is also waiting for me tonight when I go to bed. I'm already going over notes from last quarter and hoping I don't conk out during lecture or lab. Spring break was too short. Getting into school mode is going to kill me for the next two weeks. Not looking forward to being on campus for 12 hours. Yay for anxiety! I survived last quarter, must wish all the best for this one I suppose.

On a heavier note, coming back to the apartment yesterday was pretty depressing. I was so set on coming back to finding my turtles greeting me. Holmes begging for food while Watson is chilling at the end of the dock. Unfortunately only one turtle greeted me with awkward swims around the fake plant. Water levels were way too low, food gathered at the filter like moss on a tree, and Watson isn't moving.

It gives me chills to think about it. He was only 3 months old. When I took him and Holmes home, they were both stubborn and sick. I did everything I could to get them to eat and act natural. After a few week of attentive care, they were healthy. They grew so fast! Holmes outdid Watson on the eating and growing, but they were both doing what turtles were supposed to do: bask, eat, poop, swim, sleep, etc. I feel really guilty that I didn't take them home with me over break and allowed myself to trust someone else to take care of them. That person definitely wins a Darwin award for the neglect. I know I shouldn't point fingers because either way, Watson's gone.

Lewis and I buried him near a patch of wild flowers at Crystal Cove Beach. I've never had to bury a pet before and don't think I was ever this attached to one either. Our original plan was to throw him into the sea but we didn't want to pollute the ocean. Land was okay, too. We said a few words to our friend and put him at rest. I guess it's sort of funny to put Watson at the beach since he swam in fresh water only, but maybe in another life he'll be a sea turtle and survive greater waters. Now I just have to cross my fingers that Holmes would be able to live for another few decades.

I miss you, Watson. I never thought of you as a slow, dim-witted turtle people thought of you to be. You were the one that taught Holmes how to catch food near the filter by swimming towards it and how to bask under the lamp. You were always the calmer turtle and I felt I could be patient with you. Holmes always bullied you and I rooted for the underdog. I always hoped that you would live as long as Holmes or longer. At least now you won't be picked on by him. Rest in peace.