The Tortoise And The Scare
Sunday, February 22, 2009 at 09:44PM 
Unless you've been living under a rock for the past week, you've heard the gruesome and riveting story of (the late) Travis, the Terrifying Connecticut Chimpanzee.
Travis, for all intents and purposes, lived (and died) like a human ... in a real house with, presumably, all the creature comforts. Unlike most of us, he made Old Navy commercials. He drank iced tea from a glass. He was allowed to drive the family car. He experienced situational and/or social anxiety, for which he possibly ingested Xanax.
His caretaker was a woman who was quoted in the newspaper as having said that Travis "couldn't have been more my son than if I gave birth to him."
Vicky has perfect vision and this tortoise is cross-eyed.
Forget her terrible syntax; did you read what that woman said? Maybe we have unwittingly pinpointed poor Travis's whole problem. They say if it's not one thing, it's your mother.
Mind you, I am an animal lover. Always have been and always will be. I do not like the thought of a defenseless animal being exploited or abused in any way.
Travis, however, weighed 200 pounds and was hardwired to be aggressive. Two hundred pounds of unrestrained chimpanzee aggression is anything but defenseless ... as was sadly discovered by a family friend whom Travis mauled nearly to death before he himself was shot dead by the local lawmen.
(I would like to say here, with all due respect to Travis's victim: if a chimpanzee should rip off my face and my hands, please have a heart and leave me for dead. Consider me a DNR. Put a pretty picture of a younger, thinner me beside my rose-bedecked coffin at the funeral and talk of better days. There; I've said it and I'm not sorry.)
In a similar (sort of) vein, only absent the aggression, enter Victoria the Tortoise. Or exit Victoria the Tortoise, would perhaps be more appropriate.
Victoria, who at age seven weighs fifty pounds, hails from Charleston, South Carolina. She recently went missing. Happily, within a reasonable amount of time calls began pouring in about a tortoise answering Victoria's general description, wandering aimlessly around North Charleston. Hallelujah!
But wait. Victoria's owner, a lady named Cindy, upon being reunited with what was believed to be her pet tortoise (Because really, folks, how many 50-pound tortoises are to be found wandering the streets of Charleston at any given time?), immediately rejected the tortoise as being an impostor. Why?
She said, and I quote: "I know Vicky's face."
Now, friends ... I can't be sure about you but I would have been much more inclined to believe Cindy if she had given as a reason, for example, "This can't be Vicky. Vicky only wears red toenail polish and this tortoise is wearing pink," or "This can't be Vicky. Vicky only wears Wind Song and this tortoise has been spritzed with Chanel Number Five," or "This can't be Vicky. Vicky has perfect vision and this tortoise is cross-eyed," or "This can't be Vicky. Vicky hates onions but this tortoise reeks of them."
But no. "I know Vicky's face" was her stated reason for disbelieving that Victoria had at last been located.
While gentle, plodding Victoria presumably remains at large, let us hope she does not encounter a 200-pound Depends-clad chimpanzee with a Xanax prescription and the car keys ... or any pet owner kookier than her own dear Cindy.
Reader Comments (11)
Well I guess I've been living under a rock because I've missed all stories about Travis or Victoria. Thanks for bringing me up to date though. :)
Mari, LOL! I'm not surprised you haven't heard about Victoria as it's a local story, but the tale of poor Travis has been all over the news! It's such a horrific story, though, I'm glad you were spared it ... till now, that is!
I have always squirmed when people refer to their dogs as their 'kids', 'children', or worse as 'son' or 'daughter', and to themselves as their 'parent'.
The word 'parent' means 'one who gave birth' as in, expelled the said being from their birth canal. I seriously doubt if any of the aforementioned people actually did that, and to my mind, the word 'parent' should be reserved for those who did. The argument 'Well, Mrs X isn't a real parent because she adopted her children' cuts no ice with me. That is a special case, and compassion for both the children and the 'parent' compels us to accept - and encourage - the use of the term in this case.
But for dogs, cats, horses (!), mice, rats etc? I really don't think so!
Keep exotic animals as pets is usually misguided, usually wrong, and often dangerous. Here, people are required to be licenced to do so, although (naturally) far too many buck the system. We have an Exotic Pet refuge not too far from here, and it's very sad how many animals end up there.
Jay, thanks for your fantastic comment, which I knew (or at least fervently hoped) would be forthcoming! I could not agree with you more. You and I both know the emotional involvement -- often leading to heartbreak -- that accompanies being a devoted pet owner. Your beautiful Princess and Pirate were as beloved to you as any creature could be, and yet you knew where the line was drawn. Both they and you were better off for it.
I often refer to Javier as my "baby" but I use the word as a term of endearment and not as a reference to his maternity! I met Javier's mother when I selected him from the litter, and she looked nothing like me.
God help us to keep on being responsible and compassionate pet owners (because I do hope you will again be a pet owner), and to recognize that God made many animals not intended to be domesticated pets. Both people and the animals lose (sometimes even life, as has been demonstrated) when that ill-advised approach is taken.
I soooo didn't want to laugh at this story, at least on the outside. Thank you Jenny for allowing this to be humorous.
Uncle Dody, you are so welcome! I sometimes have to disguise the fact that I am laughing too, when the subject is so tragic! But I can't help it.
Well, the turtle is pretty funny... but not the chimp. That is so horrific, and it's not the first time. Chimps scare me to death. I've actually never been fond of any kind of monkey. A few bad experiences and a lot of horrifying stories were all it took. If people persist in imagining that they are descended from such beasts, things will get more violent and degrading as time goes by.
I was going to say the same thing as Mari. I never heard of these stories, but after reading them, I think I am okay under my rock. Ha! Ha! We threw out our TV so all the news we see comes up on CNN Breaking. When that news broke, I missed it.
Tracie, as always what an excellent point you make! I've never had a bad experience with a monkey (I'd like to hear about yours!), but I've also never thought I descended from one! What rubbish! As for chimps, I always just thought of Cheeta (sp?), Tarzan and Jane's pet, as my chimp model. He seemed pretty benign, but then he was so small! I never dreamt they could get as big as Travis! How awful, this gruesome story.
Cheryl, I guess in this case ignorance truly is bliss! I could have gone without hearing about the poor lady losing her face and hands too. I can't even get my mind around the enormity of that. But on Fox News they kept playing the tape of Travis's "mother" calling 911, begging for them to come and shoot him. You couldn't get away from it! So terrible and so tragic ... all the more so because it could easily have been avoided.
Well, I'll tell ya...my pet rock, Seymour, may have made a monkey out of me a time or two, and might make a meandering tortoise look spry, but at least I don't have to worry about him going joy-traipsing around town, or attacking a visitor. In fact, if you put on a mini-marathon of original Outer Limits programs on the 'tube, you'll know right where to find Seymour: glued to the 'tube, but from underneath the chair (where he hides from that Venusian sock puppet that attacked William Shatner).
SF, Seymour sounds like the kind of pet I could endorse without reservation! Low maintenance, non-existent aggression, and non-stop entertainment!