I THINK A FOX HAS EATEN THE TORTOISE

I am very very upset.   I don't care about all the other crap the past two years - but I care about the tortoises. They have been with us since we moved to Richmond. It was tough moving here.   Tom was only three and still bemused why daddy had wanted to take the TV from the house.   We were going on an adventure, not a bear hunt, even more exciting, a home hunt.   To Richmond the other side of London, or the world as far as we knew.   Estate agents had tried to sell us everything under the sun other than the precise brief I had given them.   So we had moved home to rent until I had researched every road in Richmond (which I did) to see how the land lay. I saw the tortoises and bought two, to keep each other company.  They have been to France with us back and forth, loving the space, and with their passports (they have very long names) they have got on like an old married couple although I have never been sure if they are male/female, two males or two females and I'm not sure if they are either.   They are wonderful little dinosaurs in my home and other than Bruno I much prefer them to any other animal.   I am not a dog person or a cat person (Bruno you are the exception because you only visit occasionally for food) and then go.   The cats I am looking after are very cute and cuddly but they are also very noisy, needy and greedy - like the worst sort of boyfriend. Or if you're a bloke, I suppose you'd say girlfriend.  I am a tortoise person. They are so calming to have round the house (cats are not), they don't eat much, they were expensive to buy but they have been worth every penny.    True, I'm not sure if its Bill or Ben who's been eaten but I miss him/her anyway.