Poor Mr Patel

One of my littlest turtles isn’t too keen on Christmas, I suspect. Last year he was accidentally thrown into the garden with the dirty water from the aquarium. By Paola’s dad I might add, not me! He spent a whole day in freezing temperatures out there before I came home from a vacation and found him.

Then he got a cut neck from a sharp piece of shell, which had to be shaved off at the vet. Then Angus mistook his wounded neck for food and bit him, nearly killing him. Poor Mr Patel. During the year he recovered though, and was back to his fiesty self. Until Christmas came around again, and he picked up a respiratory infection. Contagious these infections are. Angel first, then Bob caught it, then Homer and now Mr Patel. I think Scratchy might be going down with it too.

By the time you realise one is sick and try to isolate him, it’s too late and the bug has made its way to the next victim. At least Angel, Patel and Homer behave at the vets when they get their anti-biotic injections. Unlike Bob who scratches and fights all the way there, and scratches, hisses and bites all the way back.

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Dear Mr Patel, all wrapped up in a tortilla towel to keep him warm.

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