A couple of weeks ago I bought two terrapins.

Until last night they've been a lot of fun- racing around table tops, scratching my thumbs with little spiky flippers, wowing visitors with their amphibious charms and spotted bellies.

Unfortunately, one of them is now wrapped in a kitchen towel shroud at the bottom of my bin following an unexplained and untimely death.

If you think that keeping Terrapins is a walk in the park, then let me set you straight- they're a nightmare. As fussy about food as a 14 year old girl, as troublesome and mischievious as a 14 year old boy, and as tragic when you spill on the floor as a 14 year old scotch.

Maybe if the weather would get a bit more tropical, the little blighters would spend their days basking on the ceramic tile I provided for their pleasure- going for the occasional swim in the cool filtered water I paid for with my own sweat and blood, instead of freaking me out when I come home from work to find a sprawled out corpse in the bowl.

Stick to kids I reckon, they practically raise themselves these days what with the internet and all.

[more on my terrapin troubles here]