A Fitting End

In one of my first year law school classes, we learned a legal concept called in rem jurisdiction. I still have no idea what that means, but I do know that it has something to do with a lawsuit involving specific pieces of property. The example from the civil procedure casebook involved turtles as the named party in the lawsuit.

Out of total coincidence, we happened to be studying that case on the day before Thanksgiving. Jenkins, my pet turtle, was my only roommate that year, so I had to take him with me when I went home for the holiday. I was leaving straight from school and couldn't leave him in my car, so I gingerly placed Jenkins in his blue plastic travel container and carried him around in my backpack.

When the time came to discuss the in rem turtle case, I nudged the guy next to me and opened my backpack to reveal little Jenk, swimming around in his vented container. Shocked, the guy nearly fell out of his chair as he realized what he was looking at.

I love to tell the story of my little object lesson.

Mr. Jenkins died today.
Jenkins was my first real pet (he added the 'Mr.' when he turned five). He was eight years old this month.

I bought him at a mall pet shop in Ft. Myers in 2001. He was about the size of a quarter when I brought him home and I'm pretty sure that was a violation of several state and federal FDA laws.

But he was a good turtle - a red-eared slider who liked basking in the sun and eating turtle food pellets. And that's about all he did. Turtles aren't very exciting pets.

His longevity should probably be attributed to his heartiness as a turtle rather than my turtle-owning skills. Truth be told, I was a pretty rotten reptile keeper. I changed his water less than I should have and wasn't very vigilant about his diet.

I would say that I loved Mr. Jenkins, but that wouldn't be entirely true. I loved the idea of Mr. Jenkins. I loved that there was a living testament to all the places I'd lived and things I'd experienced - even before my wife came along. He was my last connection to all those lousy dorms and basement bedrooms and Detroit slums. He was there when we had to live with my folks for six months when we moved back to Indy and he held a place in the dogs' room next to their crates. In fact, he outlived two of those dogs.

In his quiet turtle way, he kept me company throughout my twenties.

But now I'm almost thirty. And I don't think a 30-year old should have a pet turtle. At twenty, it felt good to be responsible for another living thing. Jenkins gave me a sense of caring for something other than myself.

But I've grown up.

Now I have much greater responsibilities than just tending to a reptile. Being a good son, a good husband, a good brother. All those things weren't as important to me eight years ago as they are now. Jenkins bore witness to that. Even as I outgrew him and stopped taking as good of care for him as I should have.

And so it is with this blog. I think I've kinda outgrown it and stopped taking as good of care it as I should have.

So I buried Jenkins today. For the last time, I placed him in his blue vented travel container - the same one he rode in for that law school class all those years ago. I buried him and placed his sun-basking rocks on top. And just so he wouldn't be forgotten, a glass paperweight in the shape a turtle.

I think everyone should have a Mr. Jenkins at some point in their life - if only for a short while - just something to look back on with fondness in remembrance of memories past.

And with Jenkins' passing, so too will this blog be put to rest. On to bigger and better things, I suppose. Maybe I'll start a novel. Or maybe I'll finish that novel I've been putting off. In any case, I think it's time for something new.

Anything that's not Twitter.

But I do hope that some of you have enjoyed reading these stories. Know that I greatly appreciate your feedback and kind words. It would be great if The Tortfeezor, like Mr. Jenkins, will be something to look back on with fondness in remembrance of memories past.

Thank you.