Tuffy and the Humping Turtles
The image of a mounting turtle frothing at the mouth is in my mind 50 years later.
My parents rented a Winnebago motor home for a week-long trip to Southern California’s amusement parks. Tuffy, our rescued purebred German Shepard, accompanied us for the 12-hour drive south.
Ross, my nine-year-old brother, and I were excited to visit the San Diego Zoo, Universal Studios and Disneyland. Our first stop was to Universal Studios where I spied Frankenstein signing peoples’ items. I charged up and excitedly asked him to sign my arm. Then my hat. Then my shoe. Then my pant leg. I heard my mother holler, “Debbie! Get back over here and stop bothering Frankenstein!”
Everyone piled back into the Winnebago when I heard my mother say to my father, “Being in this beast is like being in a white and gold torture chamber.” My brother and I had been charging back and forth from one end to the other. We were bouncing on the beds, making faces out the windows to passersby and laughing hysterically at the responses. Tuffy was jumping up and down and barking while he watched the shenanigans. Anytime I heard my parents whisper, I’d tap my brother’s arm, put the first finger to my mouth and point at him to listen. Were we too much for my parents’ patience? Was our Aries energy pushing them over the edge?
We arrived at Disneyland the following day and the intensity of our obvious excitement permeated the 160-acres. Being a serious horse lover, I noticed one pulling a carriage filled with people and jumped on board. My mother hollered for me to get off and stay with the family. Ross and I tore all over the land together, promising to return within 30 minutes. We had our watches and diligently followed the instructions to allow for further escapades.
Our next stop was the San Diego Zoo and not a moment too soon. My father pulled the Winnebago into the outskirts of the parking lot to accommodate three parking spaces. I asked to bring Tuffy with us and was told dogs weren’t allowed on the zoo grounds. Tuffy was left inside while we headed toward the front gate. I looked over my shoulder and saw him sitting beautifully in the driver’s seat.
My brother and I were crazy about animals of any breed and breed we did see! I had my camera hanging around my neck as any true tourist would do. My mother caught me snapping one photo after another as if in a trance. Curious, she walked over to see what captivated my attention. Two turtles were mating and long strands of drool were coming out of their mouths in the shape of icicles. I screeched with excitement for my brother who was close by at the tigers’ den. “Hey, Ross! Come here and see the humping turtles!” My proper mother quickly put a hand over my mouth and whispered, “Debbie! Shush! Ladies don’t speak that way.”
Our time at the zoo was over, therefore, we began the long walk back to the gold and white torture chamber. I asked my father for the keys and charged ahead to let Tuffy out. When I opened the door and hollered his name, I was met with empty silence. Tuffy was gone. I cried for my mother to hurry up and help me find Tuffy. My parents deduced our beautiful Tuffy was seen in the driver’s seat and stolen. I innocently asked, “Did hippies steal Tuffy?”
The return ride home seemed endless. There was nothing to ease my aching heart. We made a pitstop in Kings City to refuel and use the restroom. I went inside the women’s bathroom and there I met another 10-year-old girl! Being a naturally outgoing, friendly and personable child, I struck up a conversation while at the sink. I was showing my new bestie all we could do with the powdered soap. I encouraged her to a competition of seeing which one of us could add more soap to our tiny hands. I figured out how many drops of water to add so the soap would become caked on in several layers. Time stood still and my aching heart was healed in the company of my newfound friend.
All of a sudden, the door to the bathroom flew open and in stomped my mother. She was obviously furious and for what, I had no idea. Between gritted teeth, my mother demanded, “Debbie! Get into the Winnebago now!” I pleaded, “But, Mom! My hands are covered in soap!” My mother snapped, “I don’t care what your hands are covered in. Get out of this bathroom now!” She yanked me by the back of my shirt collar and hauled me out. My soap-covered hand waved sadly good-bye to my new friend.
We began the quiet return to our ranch. Ross was sound asleep and I had my ski-sloped nose deep into another Nancy Drew book. I thought of the adventures of our family vacation and two of the memories to remain for life: Tuffy and the humping turtles.
