off of our Christmas tree. Another flew to his fate, as he escaped out of the frontdoor, over our mom¶s head, as she opened the door to answer it.I don¶t remember a time when we didn¶t have some kind of pets at home.One year, we got baby ducks, as Easter presents. Those precious, little yellow peepers were so tiny and cute, for a little while. Then they grew to be big, noisy,quaking, solid white ducks. We delivered them to a family, who lived down theroad from our camp. They had a nice farm, and were delighted to get them for their pond.One of my pets, who I was quite fond of, was Kitty. She was a little petturtle I had, back in grade school, for what seemed like a long time. I remember picking Kitty out, from the multitude of tiny turtles on display, in the basement of Young¶s Department Store. Each turtle¶s shell couldn¶t have been much larger thanthe size of a fifty-cent piece. Most of their shells were decorated, with decals of brightly-colored cartoon animals.The turtle I chose, had a decal of a hot pink kitty on its shell, hence the name³Kitty.´ I loved that turtle. She never grew any larger, and lived comfortably in her shallow, aquarium home. It had a curved ramp, which she often crawled down,allowing her to get into the water, whenever she so desired. While I was home, Iliked to take Kitty outside, and let her walk around the yard. The bright pink decalmade it easier for me to keep an eye on her, as she walked through the green grass.