I don’t know if tortoises are like cats, but I know one that has at least 2 lives – and has used up the first.

As I said this morning, Sluggo the tortoise appeared to have met a gruesome end at the hand … er, paws … of a neighborhood raccoon, and I was left with the unfortunate task of explaining the law of the jungle to my 6-yr old nephew. Today after work, I once again searched the area around the tortoise pen, looking for any evidence of Sluggo’s fate. Finding none, I went in the house and was working at the sink when something caught my eye outside the window. Over there, next to the bench – could it be? Yep – a tortoise shell. Fearing the worst, I headed outside. Something seemed wrong, though – it was in plain sight. There was no way that I had missed it during my search last night. As I approached, I saw a more or less intact tortoise with its head laying to the side. That can only mean one thing for a tortoise – dead or sunbathing. Fortunately, it was the latter. Somehow, Sluggo survived being plucked out of its pen and carried across the yard. I can only assume that at some point, the raccoons got frustrtated and gave up, and Sluggo went into hiding, only to come out when the sun beckoned.

Here’s the little bastard looking pissed because I interrupted its post-adventure meal:

Needless to say, tonight Sluggo spends the night in the house. Tomorrow, we begin work on the Mark II Critter-Proof Tortoise Pen …

You knew someone would do it. All those nice fat intentional walk pitches floating just inches outside of the strike zone – you knew someday someone would make a mistake and one would get jumped on by a frustrated batter. And considering the amazing way the Marlins have been playing lately, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised it would be them.

As a Marlins fan, I feared this season would suck. For reasons that were almost understandable, last year’s team – one that flirted with the wild card until fading late – was dismantled in the offseason, leaving only Miguel Cabrera and Dontrelle Willis to be joined this season by a cast of rookies. You could hope that some of the untried players would catch on – just as Willis and Cabrera had during the unlikely World Series run in ’03 – but no one expected the team to light it up as they have lately.

So when the Fish had their nine-game winning streak broken Wednesday by the Orioles and then went down 5-1 last night, it was easy to figure things were just back to what they should be. Imagine the surprise I felt when we rallied to tie against their closer – who blew his first save in 19 tries. But that was just a prelude to the real fun.

When you have one slugger on a team of rookies, you gotta figure he’s not gonna see a lot of good pitches to hit. That has certainly been the case for Cabrera, who’s not the most patient person. So when he came up in the 10th with a runner on second and the catcher stood up to signal the pitcher to walk Cabrera intentionally, he apparently decided enough was enough.

The ball floated in the air, much closer to the plate than Miguel Cabrera anticipated. It was supposed to be the first pitch of an intentional walk, yet Cabrera wasn’t about to let this one get to the catcher.

And so he took a swing at it.

Cabrera stepped into the soft, outside pitch and drove it to center, scoring Ramirez with the go-ahead run on a swing more likely to be seen in the movies than the major leagues.

I saw the video of the pitch last night on SportCenter. It looked just like on of those beer-league slow pitch tosses that usually get driven deep into the night. I’m not sure who was more surprised, Cabrera or the catcher, but it was clear who recovered first. The Marlins went on to score twice more and win 8-5.

A team that was predicted to lose 110 games this season, the Marlins are flirting with .500 as 31-38. After really sucking for the first 40 games as their rookies figured out how to play in the majors, the team is playing like seasoned veterans. Last night’s victory was the largest Marlins comeback since 1998, and included the majors’ first back-to-back pinch hit home runs since 2001.

Now, reality could come crashing home when they visit the Yankees for three games starting tonight. But if they were to lay the wood to the Bombers, people might start to think there’s something pretty special going on in South Florida – again.

That’s why they play the games …

I am not what you would call an emotional guy. I make very few relationships with others, and those I do tend to be shockingly shallow. So it might come as a surprise to see me attempt to wax poetic at the loss of a tortoise, of all things.

A little background. Several years ago, through a complicated series of events almost too silly to be believed, my mother ended up with a 10-gallon aquarium filled with wood chips and a turtle. Her thinking was that it would make a nice pet for her then-2-yr-old grandson. My brother, the child’s father, had a different opinion – something about “that thing’s not going in my house!” Out of choices, Mom turned to me, and I became the guardian of a 6-inch, 25-yr old desert tortoise.

Not being one to do things half-way, I built an enclosure on the side of the house to get the turtle out of the glass box. I did a web search to learn what to feed it, and how to deal with hibernation. As my nephew grew, his sense of ownership grew as well, and it was not uncommon to see him trooping across my back yard with friends in tow to show off “his turtle”.

I don’t want to say I was really “attached” to this thing, since it clearly wasn’t attached to be. Tortoises are a lot like your prickly old grandfather – always just a little pissed at something. Initially, I wouldn’t even name it, but I had to call it something, so I settled on “Sluggo” after comedian Ron White’s dog that has a habit of crapping on the floor. I knew that my Sluggo would do the same, given the chance.

Several weeks ago, I was feeling guilty (you’ll see that guilt is the underlying thread of this episode …) because the enclosure was in the shade. Tortoises, being reptiles, need the sunshine to keep warm, so I would take the tortoise out of the enclosure to let it run free in the yard while I was tending the roses. However, being a small animal, it could get into places I didn’t want – like under the fence – and I was constantly worried it would make its escape while I was pre-occupied. So, I put a barrier around a portion of my rose garden and created a connection between it and the enclosure. To give the tortoise access, I cut a hole in the chicken wire of the enclosure and bent it back. The tortoise could now move freely between the two, getting all the sunshine it wanted without any chance of escape. When I first cut the hole, I realized that it was much larger than the cross-section of the shell. I adjusted the cut wire and pushed part of it back into place, but didn’t secure it. I made a note to permanently decrease the hole size when I got a chance (cue ominous music …)

Unfortunately, the path to hell is paved with good intentions. Yesterday morning, I noticed that the racoons that frequent my yard had obviously been swimming in my pond, and had torn up the filters and pumps. This happens periodically, and results in all the water draining from the pond, and me being pissed off. I didn’t think to look and see what other damage might have been done …

After work, I was showing my brother and nephew the new addition to the pen. As I walked around the corner of the house, following the path from the addition to the enclosure, I could see that something had been digging right next to the opening – and had made it larger. I suddenly felt like Gil Grissom rolling up on a crime scene. I suggested my brother take his son elsewhere while I initiated the gruesome search.

The good news is that there was no clear evidence of a struggle – no tortoise parts, no blood, no shell pieces. The bad news is that there was no tortoise, either. I spent several hours searching the yard and all the places I know the raccoons hang out, but there was no sign of of the tortoise. It could have been carried off, I could have simply missed the evidence, or it got away and escaped. I may never know.

Unfortunately, I now have the task of explaining to a 6-yr old that his turtle is gone. At least I can hide behind the technically true statement that it simply escaped, albeit with help. That’ll all change if I find a shell fragment over the weekend …

Hard to believe, but I miss the little bastard …