The following is a quickwrite from Donnelly’s class: How does experience affect one’s observations?

I live with a turtle named Reggie. Reggie is a Russian Desert tortoise and he hates water. He’s about half a ruler long and two years old, which is about three or four in human years. Whenever I set him down upside down, he has this crazy seizure menuver where he starts to move himself with his head. Reggie has this bad habit of trying to eat me. He tries to eat just about everything, especially things that are red. He eats everything that’s red, like a swollen finger or the red stripes on my little brother’s slot car racetrack. It’s probably because he loves cherry tomatoes. I always give them to him and he always tries to eat it, but rolls it away on accident, then chases it and does it again until he gets to a wall or I open it up or something. Reggie looks like a tiny old guy wearing a sweater. It’s pretty great. His front right limb is missing some claws, so he only has one claw there, and he walks really, really slowly. Cartoons don’t lie; that’s the real deal. Unless he sees something red, then he’s like an American police officer to a Dunkin’ Donuts. He has a mark on his shell that looks like someone dug into it with their two front teeth or something, but I doubt anyone did. Petsmart’s not weird like that - hopefully. Reggie was a surprise gift from my parents last Christmas. He came home December 20, 2013 and I’ve had him since. Reggie really loves to poop, so I’ve cleaned his terrarium a number of times since then. Someone shattered the glass on his first tank, so we got to upgrade thanks to a generous donation and I got to skip cleaning for a month. Overall, Reggie’s just a bro. Like you wouldn’t chill with someone named Fido or Mr. Dog, but Reggie? Ya, he’s, like, my bro.