This short story is a true anthem to the pure, selfless love we feel for our pets! In 1980s Dublin — where life was tough and dreams were simple — a child’s unwavering belief in the worth of every living creature could soften even the most hurried adult heart.
Let this story inspire you to hug your pets a little tighter today — and maybe to see the world through their eyes, a world full of wonder and boundless kindness. At AdmiGram.com, we’re excited to share the story of little Sean and his turtle — a tale as refreshing as a soft Irish summer rain.
The Turtle in Dublin – A Story About Needless Worries
© Carlos Torres / Unsplash
Dublin, 1985. A soft summer fog curled through the narrow streets of Cork Street, muffling the clatter of passing trams. Michael was forty, Sean was ten — and the little turtle was younger still. Sean burst into the cramped living room, clutching a wool cap. Something was squirming inside. Michael, sprawled on the sagging sofa with his Irish Press newspaper, put it aside and squinted.
“Dad, look!” Sean gasped, beaming.
Inside the cap was a tiny turtle, its little nose twitching adorably. Michael, who had always loved animals, smiled but still asked:
“Where’d you get that?”
“Out in Finn’s yard,” Sean said, setting the turtle gently on the floor. “We traded. I gave him a lottery ticket, and he gave me the turtle.”
“A ticket?” Michael frowned. “What ticket?”
“The one I bought for five pence from that guy on O’Connell Street,” Sean answered, watching as the turtle scooted under the couch.
Michael sat up, alarmed.
“Hold on — you gave away a lottery ticket? What if it was a winner?”
“It was a winner,” Sean said nonchalantly. “I checked the numbers in the paper. They matched. Even the series.”
Michael turned pale.
“What did you win?” he whispered.
“A TV!” Sean grinned.
Michael shook with disbelief.
“A TV?! You traded a television for a turtle?!”
“But we have a TV,” Sean said, puzzled. “We didn’t have a turtle!”
“Oh, for the love of — where’s Finn?” Michael barked, grabbing the cap with the turtle. “Let’s go!”
Sean started to whimper.
“I don’t want a TV! I want the turtle!”
“Quiet!” Michael said, dragging Sean out the door. “We’ll get the ticket back — and I’ll buy you a dozen turtles if you want!”
© Frames For Your Heart / Unsplash
Finn, a skinny eight-year-old, was leaning against the wall. When he saw Michael storming toward him, he backed up fast.
“Where’s the ticket?” Michael demanded, holding out the turtle. “Take your turtle — give me the ticket!”
“I don’t have it,” Finn mumbled, sniffling.
“Where is it?!” Michael shouted.
“I made it into a paper boat,” Finn whispered. “It floated away… down the Liffey.”
Finn pointed toward the river. Michael, tossing aside his sweater, ran for the water. He dove into the cold river and swam toward a tiny yellow boat stuck in the reeds on the opposite bank. Sean and Finn watched, wide-eyed and silent, from the shore. Soaked and shivering, Michael finally dragged himself back onto the riverbank, clutching the soggy boat. He unfolded it carefully. The series number was from last year.
“When did you buy that ticket?” Michael asked Sean.
“Last spring,” Sean answered.
“And when did you check it?”
“Yesterday.”
“It’s from an old drawing,” Michael sighed heavily.
Sean stepped closer.
“Don’t be mad, Dad. Finn said the turtle’s ours anyway.”
Michael looked at his son, then at Finn, and finally at the little turtle peeking out from the cap — and he couldn’t help but smile, sadly but warmly.
“Thanks, Finn,” he said, pulling his wet trousers back up.
As they walked home, a deep sadness crept into Michael’s heart. He realized, with a bittersweet pang, that the time when you could trade a brand-new television for a little turtle without a second thought — that beautiful, carefree time — was something he would never get back.
image on top: Suu Amran / Unsplash
