Those wrinkly stalky irresistible rear legs
Pressing on
Walking
No such thing as sitting

Ah me, but your wee home!
The substrate the lights the water the rocks the uvb
The temp the humidity the air you breathe
The noise of the aging refrigerator

You fit in the palm of my hand

Walkabouts where you try it all out
Grass
Dandelion
Toxic weeds
Dog poop
Plastic waste pieces—how are there so many?

What about winters?
What about trips?
What about your life after my death?

What about our insistence to make you a pet?

Your scaly arms a preview of your future form:
A rock solid, statuesque, timeless, weed-eating, moving mound in the grass

Strong and silent type

You were barely born when the vet prescribed Calcium
Injections
Daily
For two months at home.
We almost couldn’t stand to comply
But we do

You contract as the needle pierces your skin
and you exhale audibly
with pain.

Someday you’ll meet the dogs and the chickens and the vagrant peahen

We offer you grass from outside, grass I grow inside,
Plus Tortoise Table green lights like hibiscus and heather
And I once snuck you a berry
Sometimes some kale
Shhhh!

The move to outside living is looming
Will you tip over or get hurt? There’s predators and weather and chance of escape!

Don’t let’s talk about pyramiding.

Pangea, we fight for our future.