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I never intended to get a tortoise… I was in a troubled relationship with a man who was the opposite of me in almost every way， until we discovered we both wanted a pet. We thought we’d finally found some common ground. I was allergic to dogs and cats， so we 1）scouted for other possibilities at the pet store. I pointed to a crowded tank， a glossy shell and a pair of orange ringed eyes.
“This is what you want？” he asked doubtfully.
I nodded.
We named the tortoise Minnie， and by the time we realized she was a he， after an 2）eye-popping male display， the name had stuck.
How could I not love this strange little creature， especially when he clacked his jaw as if he were speaking and drew up his long， lovely neck to sniff the air？
I bathed him in the sink. I hand-fed him 3）avocado， wiggling it so he would think it was live food. I even kissed his shell.
“You’re a little obsessive about him，” my boyfriend accused. “It isn’t normal.”
The more time I spent discovering the tortoise， the more my boyfriend uncovered things about me he didn’t like. My friends were now too loud， and why couldn’t I trade my jeans for something more feminine， with a 4）flounce？ It wasn’t long before I broke up with him， and Minnie and I moved to a small apartment in Chelsea.
Every night I would take Minnie out of the tank， put him on the table and tell him about my day. Sometimes I’d cry because I was lonely. But Minnie always seemed to listen and clack his jaws at just the right time. At night， when I woke up， all I had to do was look across the room and there he was， Buddha in a shell， wise and deeply comforting.
I couldn’t bear another relationship where I was forced to be someone I wasn’t. “You’re odd，” my ex had told me.“All you want to do is watch movies， read books and play with Minnie.” He meant it as a 5）rebuke， but I kept thinking： what was wrong with that kind of 6）nirvana？
Then I met Jeff， a smart， funny journalist who took me to a toy store for our first date， I was anxious about how much I liked him. I invited him to dinner， which I admit was more a dare than a meal. Minnie was on the table in a glass tank with us.
We were having spaghetti. Minnie was having live worms.
Jeff cautiously sat down. He looked at the tortoise tank and didn’t say a word. When Minnie 7）lunged for a worm， Jeff flinched. But he didn’t get up and leave， and at the end of the evening， he asked for another date. He didn’t object weeks later when I wanted us to take Minnie to Central Park， and he came with a picnic basket and a little wrapped gift. Inside was a little red rubber squid toy. “I thought he’d like it，” Jeff said， wiggling it at Minnie， who lunged toward it.
While my old boyfriend told me how obsessive I was about Minnie， Jeff celebrated our connection， making a fake newspaper cover featuring Minnie and me. （“Startling Tales of Tortoise Life！ She holds me under the 8）faucet！” the headline blared.）
Two years later we married and moved to Hoboken， N.J.， where Minnie resided in a glass tank on a table in my writing studio. All I had to do to see him was turn around.
When Jeff and I had a child， I got critically ill with a rare blood disorder. I was in the hospital for three months and at home in bed for another six. Jeff would bring in our son every morning and set him on the bed so I could cradle and play with him. One day he brought Minnie and a towel and set him on the bed， too.
One afternoon when Jeff wasn’t home and our son was at school， I heard a noise in my office. When I walked in， Minnie wasn’t moving， and when I lifted him， his legs fell gracelessly against my hand. Sobbing， I carried him outside to the backyard. I wanted to bury him there so he’d always be a presence near me， but the ground was rocky and I couldn’t dig a hole deeper than four inches， barely enough to cover his shell. Worse， it started to rain， soaking me. I kept imagining Minnie’s bones floating up from the ground like something out of Stephen King’s 9）Pet Sematary.
So I wrapped him in a towel and ran two blocks to the vet， where， covered in mud and weeping， I let them gently take him from me.
I grieved. Of course， I grieved. But when I told people how much I missed him， how I couldn’t write without him in my office， they didn’t get it.
“He was like a pet rock，” my mother said. “How can you miss a rock？”
People told me about their dogs and cats who had died， and I thought， it’s easy to love the beautiful， the normal. But what about the gifts of loving the strange， the uncommon， the odd？
I felt I would never get over him. Then one day I came home to find Jeff grinning. “Come to your office，” he said.
We walked upstairs， and there on the wall was a painting of Minnie， walking on our wood floors， moving toward an open doorway， his head happily 10）aloft.
I looked at Jeff， astonished. An old high school friend， a painter， had captured Minnie on canvas， and Jeff had hung the portrait inches from where Minnie’s tank used to be. Recently， when I got up to go to work in my office， I thought about how， for a while， I was unlucky in love. I no more fit in my old life than Minnie had in his tiny pet store tank. I remembered my ex telling me he wanted a girlfriend who was more normal.
Then I looked across the hall to see my husband waving and beaming at me， and I gazed at the wall and there was Minnie. A strange little figure. Uncommon. Odd. And completely and always beloved.
我从未想过自己会养一只乌龟当宠物……那时，我的恋爱生活问题百出，我的男友是一个几乎在各方面都与我截然相反的人，直到我们发现对方都希望养一只宠物。我们以为我们终于找到了一些共同点。我对猫狗过敏，因此我们在宠物店里搜寻其他可能的选择。我指着一个拥挤的玻璃缸，里面有一只家伙披着闪亮的外壳，长着一双眼眶发黄的眼睛。
“这就是你想要的？”他疑惑地问道。
我点了点头。
我们给这乌龟起了个名字，叫米妮。直到看到它做出一个让人大吃一惊的雄性行为时，我们才意识到原来“她”是个男孩，“米妮”这个名字也改不掉了。
我怎能不爱上这个奇怪的小家伙呢？特别是当它咔嗒着下巴好像在说话，还伸长着可爱的脖子在空气中嗅来嗅去的时候。
我在玻璃缸里给它洗澡。我亲手给它喂鳄梨，故意把食物晃动起来让它以为是活的。我甚至还亲吻它的外壳。
“你对它有点过度着迷了，”我的男朋友抱怨道。“这不太正常。”
我越是花时间研究这只乌龟，我的男友就越发发现我身上有他不喜欢的方面。我的朋友们现在说话太大声了，为什么我不能换掉我的牛仔裤，穿上更加有女人味的着装，比如有荷叶边的衣服？不久之后，我就和他分手了，我带着米妮搬到了位于切尔西的一所小公寓里。
每天晚上，我都会把米妮从玻璃缸拿出来，放在桌面上，给它讲述我一天的生活。有时我会哭鼻子，那是因为我寂寞了。可是米妮似乎一直都在聆听，在恰当的时候吧嗒下巴。晚上，每当我醒来，只要望望房间的另一头，它就在那里，像安身壳中的一尊佛，充满智慧，给人无限安慰。
我不能再忍受另一段这样的恋爱关系，要被迫扮演另外一个人。“你真奇怪，”我的前男友曾对我说。“你想做的事就只是看看电影、读读书，还有跟米妮玩儿。”他的话中带有指责，然而我却一直想：享受那样的极乐有何不可？
然后，我遇到了杰夫。他是一个睿智、风趣的记者，第一次约会时就带我去一家玩具店，对于自己有多喜欢他，我忐忑不安。我邀请他共进晚餐，不得不承认这更像是大冒险而非寻常晚饭——米妮当时就在桌子上的玻璃缸里和我们在一起。
我们在吃意大利面，米妮则在吃活生生的虫子。
杰夫小心翼翼地坐下来。他看着那个乌龟玻璃缸，一声不吭。当米妮猛地啄起一条虫子，杰夫退缩了一下。不过他并没有起身离开，晚餐结束时，他邀约下一次约会。几周后，我提议一起带米妮去中央公园，他并没有反对，还带着一个野餐篮和一份包装精美的小礼物出现。里面装着的是一个小小的红色橡皮章鱼玩具。
“我觉得它会喜欢这个玩具，”杰夫一边说，一边朝着米妮晃动着，米妮一下就把它啄过去了。
我的前男友说我对米妮过分着迷，杰夫却仿制了一份虚拟报纸封面，用头条报道我和米妮的故事，来庆祝我们的亲密关系。（标题大呼：《小乌龟们都惊呆了！她把我按到水龙头下！》）
两年后，我和杰夫结婚了，搬到了新泽西州的霍博肯，米妮则住在我的写作工作室一张桌子上的一个玻璃缸里。我只要转一转身就能看到它。
我和杰夫有了孩子之后，我得了一种罕见的血液失调症，生命垂危。我在医院住了三个月，出院后在家继续躺了六个月。杰夫每天早上都会把我们的儿子抱进来，放在我的床边，好让我可以抱抱他，跟他玩耍。有一天，他把米妮也带了进来，用毛巾垫着，放我床上了。
一天下午，杰夫不在家，我们的儿子也上学去了，我听见我的办公室里有一阵吵杂声。当我走进办公室时，米妮不动了，我拿起它，它的双腿从我手上难看地耷拉下来。我抽泣着，把它捧到后院。我想把它葬在那儿，这样它就能一直陪在我左右，可是地面太硬了，我挖到四英寸深就再也挖不下去了，这样的深度仅仅够覆盖它的外壳。更糟的是，天下起雨来，一点点地把我浸湿。我幻想着米妮的骨头从地上漂浮起来，就像史蒂芬·金的小说《宠物公墓》里的场景一样。
于是我用毛巾把它包好，跑了两个街区把它送到宠物医院，到达时我已一身泥巴，泪流满面，那里的工作人员轻轻地从我的手中接过它。
我十分悲痛。当然，我伤心极了。然而，当我告诉人们我多么想念它、没有它在我的办公室里我无法写作时，他们并不理解。
“它就像是一块宠物石头，”我母亲说。“你哪能想念一块石头呢？”
人们会跟我讲述他们死去的猫猫和狗狗的事情，而我想，宠爱那些漂亮的、正常的宠物多么容易啊。可是那些热爱新奇的、不寻常的、古怪动物的天赋能力呢？（难道就不值得一提吗？）
我深感我永远无法将它忘怀。有一天，我回到家，看见杰夫笑嘻嘻地看着我。“去你的办公室看看吧，”他说。
我们一起走上楼去，一幅米妮的画作挂在墙上，画中的它在我们家的木地板上爬着，面朝一个打开的门口，愉悦地高举着头。
我看着杰夫，惊喜万分。一位当上了画家的高中老朋友，把米妮画在了油画布上，杰夫把这幅肖像挂在墙上，距离米妮之前住的玻璃缸只有几英寸之遥。
最近，我起身走去办公室工作，我思索着，有一阵子，自己在爱情方面所遭遇的不幸。我不能再适应以往的生活，适应度比米妮对它那小小的宠物缸还要差。我记得前男友对我说，他想要一个正常一些的女朋友。
接着，我朝大厅的那一头望去，看见我的丈夫正朝着我神采飞扬地招手，我凝视着墙壁，米妮的画像就挂在那里。一只奇怪的小生物。不寻常。古古怪怪。却一直被深深地宠爱着。
“This is what you want？” he asked doubtfully.
I nodded.
We named the tortoise Minnie， and by the time we realized she was a he， after an 2）eye-popping male display， the name had stuck.
How could I not love this strange little creature， especially when he clacked his jaw as if he were speaking and drew up his long， lovely neck to sniff the air？
I bathed him in the sink. I hand-fed him 3）avocado， wiggling it so he would think it was live food. I even kissed his shell.
“You’re a little obsessive about him，” my boyfriend accused. “It isn’t normal.”
The more time I spent discovering the tortoise， the more my boyfriend uncovered things about me he didn’t like. My friends were now too loud， and why couldn’t I trade my jeans for something more feminine， with a 4）flounce？ It wasn’t long before I broke up with him， and Minnie and I moved to a small apartment in Chelsea.
Every night I would take Minnie out of the tank， put him on the table and tell him about my day. Sometimes I’d cry because I was lonely. But Minnie always seemed to listen and clack his jaws at just the right time. At night， when I woke up， all I had to do was look across the room and there he was， Buddha in a shell， wise and deeply comforting.
I couldn’t bear another relationship where I was forced to be someone I wasn’t. “You’re odd，” my ex had told me.“All you want to do is watch movies， read books and play with Minnie.” He meant it as a 5）rebuke， but I kept thinking： what was wrong with that kind of 6）nirvana？
Then I met Jeff， a smart， funny journalist who took me to a toy store for our first date， I was anxious about how much I liked him. I invited him to dinner， which I admit was more a dare than a meal. Minnie was on the table in a glass tank with us.
We were having spaghetti. Minnie was having live worms.
Jeff cautiously sat down. He looked at the tortoise tank and didn’t say a word. When Minnie 7）lunged for a worm， Jeff flinched. But he didn’t get up and leave， and at the end of the evening， he asked for another date. He didn’t object weeks later when I wanted us to take Minnie to Central Park， and he came with a picnic basket and a little wrapped gift. Inside was a little red rubber squid toy. “I thought he’d like it，” Jeff said， wiggling it at Minnie， who lunged toward it.
While my old boyfriend told me how obsessive I was about Minnie， Jeff celebrated our connection， making a fake newspaper cover featuring Minnie and me. （“Startling Tales of Tortoise Life！ She holds me under the 8）faucet！” the headline blared.）
Two years later we married and moved to Hoboken， N.J.， where Minnie resided in a glass tank on a table in my writing studio. All I had to do to see him was turn around.
When Jeff and I had a child， I got critically ill with a rare blood disorder. I was in the hospital for three months and at home in bed for another six. Jeff would bring in our son every morning and set him on the bed so I could cradle and play with him. One day he brought Minnie and a towel and set him on the bed， too.
One afternoon when Jeff wasn’t home and our son was at school， I heard a noise in my office. When I walked in， Minnie wasn’t moving， and when I lifted him， his legs fell gracelessly against my hand. Sobbing， I carried him outside to the backyard. I wanted to bury him there so he’d always be a presence near me， but the ground was rocky and I couldn’t dig a hole deeper than four inches， barely enough to cover his shell. Worse， it started to rain， soaking me. I kept imagining Minnie’s bones floating up from the ground like something out of Stephen King’s 9）Pet Sematary.
So I wrapped him in a towel and ran two blocks to the vet， where， covered in mud and weeping， I let them gently take him from me.
I grieved. Of course， I grieved. But when I told people how much I missed him， how I couldn’t write without him in my office， they didn’t get it.
“He was like a pet rock，” my mother said. “How can you miss a rock？”
People told me about their dogs and cats who had died， and I thought， it’s easy to love the beautiful， the normal. But what about the gifts of loving the strange， the uncommon， the odd？
I felt I would never get over him. Then one day I came home to find Jeff grinning. “Come to your office，” he said.
We walked upstairs， and there on the wall was a painting of Minnie， walking on our wood floors， moving toward an open doorway， his head happily 10）aloft.
I looked at Jeff， astonished. An old high school friend， a painter， had captured Minnie on canvas， and Jeff had hung the portrait inches from where Minnie’s tank used to be. Recently， when I got up to go to work in my office， I thought about how， for a while， I was unlucky in love. I no more fit in my old life than Minnie had in his tiny pet store tank. I remembered my ex telling me he wanted a girlfriend who was more normal.
Then I looked across the hall to see my husband waving and beaming at me， and I gazed at the wall and there was Minnie. A strange little figure. Uncommon. Odd. And completely and always beloved.
我从未想过自己会养一只乌龟当宠物……那时，我的恋爱生活问题百出，我的男友是一个几乎在各方面都与我截然相反的人，直到我们发现对方都希望养一只宠物。我们以为我们终于找到了一些共同点。我对猫狗过敏，因此我们在宠物店里搜寻其他可能的选择。我指着一个拥挤的玻璃缸，里面有一只家伙披着闪亮的外壳，长着一双眼眶发黄的眼睛。
“这就是你想要的？”他疑惑地问道。
我点了点头。
我们给这乌龟起了个名字，叫米妮。直到看到它做出一个让人大吃一惊的雄性行为时，我们才意识到原来“她”是个男孩，“米妮”这个名字也改不掉了。
我怎能不爱上这个奇怪的小家伙呢？特别是当它咔嗒着下巴好像在说话，还伸长着可爱的脖子在空气中嗅来嗅去的时候。
我在玻璃缸里给它洗澡。我亲手给它喂鳄梨，故意把食物晃动起来让它以为是活的。我甚至还亲吻它的外壳。
“你对它有点过度着迷了，”我的男朋友抱怨道。“这不太正常。”
我越是花时间研究这只乌龟，我的男友就越发发现我身上有他不喜欢的方面。我的朋友们现在说话太大声了，为什么我不能换掉我的牛仔裤，穿上更加有女人味的着装，比如有荷叶边的衣服？不久之后，我就和他分手了，我带着米妮搬到了位于切尔西的一所小公寓里。
每天晚上，我都会把米妮从玻璃缸拿出来，放在桌面上，给它讲述我一天的生活。有时我会哭鼻子，那是因为我寂寞了。可是米妮似乎一直都在聆听，在恰当的时候吧嗒下巴。晚上，每当我醒来，只要望望房间的另一头，它就在那里，像安身壳中的一尊佛，充满智慧，给人无限安慰。
我不能再忍受另一段这样的恋爱关系，要被迫扮演另外一个人。“你真奇怪，”我的前男友曾对我说。“你想做的事就只是看看电影、读读书，还有跟米妮玩儿。”他的话中带有指责，然而我却一直想：享受那样的极乐有何不可？
然后，我遇到了杰夫。他是一个睿智、风趣的记者，第一次约会时就带我去一家玩具店，对于自己有多喜欢他，我忐忑不安。我邀请他共进晚餐，不得不承认这更像是大冒险而非寻常晚饭——米妮当时就在桌子上的玻璃缸里和我们在一起。
我们在吃意大利面，米妮则在吃活生生的虫子。
杰夫小心翼翼地坐下来。他看着那个乌龟玻璃缸，一声不吭。当米妮猛地啄起一条虫子，杰夫退缩了一下。不过他并没有起身离开，晚餐结束时，他邀约下一次约会。几周后，我提议一起带米妮去中央公园，他并没有反对，还带着一个野餐篮和一份包装精美的小礼物出现。里面装着的是一个小小的红色橡皮章鱼玩具。
“我觉得它会喜欢这个玩具，”杰夫一边说，一边朝着米妮晃动着，米妮一下就把它啄过去了。
我的前男友说我对米妮过分着迷，杰夫却仿制了一份虚拟报纸封面，用头条报道我和米妮的故事，来庆祝我们的亲密关系。（标题大呼：《小乌龟们都惊呆了！她把我按到水龙头下！》）
两年后，我和杰夫结婚了，搬到了新泽西州的霍博肯，米妮则住在我的写作工作室一张桌子上的一个玻璃缸里。我只要转一转身就能看到它。
我和杰夫有了孩子之后，我得了一种罕见的血液失调症，生命垂危。我在医院住了三个月，出院后在家继续躺了六个月。杰夫每天早上都会把我们的儿子抱进来，放在我的床边，好让我可以抱抱他，跟他玩耍。有一天，他把米妮也带了进来，用毛巾垫着，放我床上了。
一天下午，杰夫不在家，我们的儿子也上学去了，我听见我的办公室里有一阵吵杂声。当我走进办公室时，米妮不动了，我拿起它，它的双腿从我手上难看地耷拉下来。我抽泣着，把它捧到后院。我想把它葬在那儿，这样它就能一直陪在我左右，可是地面太硬了，我挖到四英寸深就再也挖不下去了，这样的深度仅仅够覆盖它的外壳。更糟的是，天下起雨来，一点点地把我浸湿。我幻想着米妮的骨头从地上漂浮起来，就像史蒂芬·金的小说《宠物公墓》里的场景一样。
于是我用毛巾把它包好，跑了两个街区把它送到宠物医院，到达时我已一身泥巴，泪流满面，那里的工作人员轻轻地从我的手中接过它。
我十分悲痛。当然，我伤心极了。然而，当我告诉人们我多么想念它、没有它在我的办公室里我无法写作时，他们并不理解。
“它就像是一块宠物石头，”我母亲说。“你哪能想念一块石头呢？”
人们会跟我讲述他们死去的猫猫和狗狗的事情，而我想，宠爱那些漂亮的、正常的宠物多么容易啊。可是那些热爱新奇的、不寻常的、古怪动物的天赋能力呢？（难道就不值得一提吗？）
我深感我永远无法将它忘怀。有一天，我回到家，看见杰夫笑嘻嘻地看着我。“去你的办公室看看吧，”他说。
我们一起走上楼去，一幅米妮的画作挂在墙上，画中的它在我们家的木地板上爬着，面朝一个打开的门口，愉悦地高举着头。
我看着杰夫，惊喜万分。一位当上了画家的高中老朋友，把米妮画在了油画布上，杰夫把这幅肖像挂在墙上，距离米妮之前住的玻璃缸只有几英寸之遥。
最近，我起身走去办公室工作，我思索着，有一阵子，自己在爱情方面所遭遇的不幸。我不能再适应以往的生活，适应度比米妮对它那小小的宠物缸还要差。我记得前男友对我说，他想要一个正常一些的女朋友。
接着，我朝大厅的那一头望去，看见我的丈夫正朝着我神采飞扬地招手，我凝视着墙壁，米妮的画像就挂在那里。一只奇怪的小生物。不寻常。古古怪怪。却一直被深深地宠爱着。