Down below in the grass under the birdbath, Baxter Box-Turtle was woken from his nap. He was at first confused by the piercing, shrieking cries that came from above him but he reacted quickly.
“Uh. What’s wrong? Are you okay up there?” he asked.
At this point, Mona was whimpering. She was quite close to a total breakdown. But somehow, she managed to explain her dilemma to Baxter, ending with plaints of “Help me. Oh, please help me!”
Now I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a box turtle climb up a two-foot birdbath stand but I never have. And Baxter ruled out that option quickly. Instead he did what he does best. He stayed calm. And he stayed steady. He began talking to Mona in his most relaxed reassuring voice. He soon had a grasp of the situation. He had no choice except to talk Mona through her fears and get her to come to the edge of the birdbath.
She made her way slowly, oh so agonizingly through the muck, moaning and groaning the whole way. She kept her eyes closed the whole time to keep from seeing the horror she was oozing through. But the images that were fabricated by her vivid imagination were almost worse.
4.