ALL my life, there have been animals in and around the house. When I was a child, my mother kept a variety of pets in sequential order. Aside from rescued dogs and cats, at one time or another we had rabbits, parakeets, a parrot, mynahs, goldfish, ducks, chickens, hamsters and even white mice.

But never a turtle. So I grew up thinking that turtles are warm, affectionate creatures as in “turtledove” which connotes love and loving.

I learned the truth about turtles only three years ago, when we came to own a turtle in an odd circumstance.

At dawn, my maid was cleaning the car parked on the sidewalk when she saw a small creature slowly making its way down the middle of the street.

It was a turtle.

My maid picked it up and saw that it had a hole in the right edge of its shell, with a piece of nylon string attached to the hole. The end of the string was frazzled, as if the turtle had managed to break away from whatever it was tied to, and wandered onto the street with the string trailing behind it.

When the maid showed me her discovery that morning, the turtle was swimming in a pail three-fourths full of water. I told her to put it on the ground before it drowned.

Once on terra firma, the turtle began walking toward the backyard, followed with angry barks by my Lhasa Apso dog. The maids, who come from rural areas where turtles are not rare, said that it was a freshwater or river turtle, so it wouldn’t grow as big as a platter like marine turtles do.

My daughter Agnes and I wondered whether we should call the village administration to report the turtle in case it had escaped from its owner. But what if they took it and turned it into turtle soup?

So now we have a pet turtle. At night, it is placed in a little old cage, originally used to house a puppy, to keep it safe from marauding cats and night creatures. After consulting the vet, we placed a dipping pool (the shallow cover of a tin can filled with a little water) for it to sleep in after its supper of a sprig of leafy vegetable, rice and a bit of scrambled egg. This was the diet recommended by the vet.

In the morning, the maid washes the turtle and puts it on the planter shelf in the backyard, where it can walk around or rest under the shade of leafy plants. During the day, the turtle is doused with water every two hours unless we have rainy weather. Before the turtle is put to bed at night, it is washed clean under the garden faucet.

The next time we brought our dogs for checkup in the vet clinic, the vet examined the turtle and determined that it was female. But he couldn’t tell how old it was.

It was then I learned that the turtle belongs to the reptile species and is a carnivore. The vet said it is a scavenger and sure enough, my reptilian pet likes to nibble the remaining meat off leftover chicken bones.

Upon learning that the turtle is female, my daughter Alice in Dallas e-mailed the suggestion that it be named “Myrtle” since it rhymes with “turtle.” But we never really call her Myrtle, and often refer to her simply as “Pagong.”

We soon discovered that Myrtle is a wanderer and skillful escape artist. Several times she was caught walking toward the front garden to attempt escaping back to the street by squeezing under the gate. But her shell was too high and prevented her escape.

There were days when she would hide in the front garden under some rock or plant and keep us busy looking for her.

Several times, especially during rainy weather, I saw her wandering around the back garden, crossing the lanai with her long neck stuck out and head held high.

When Myrtle is strolling around the garden, the dogs studiously ignore her. Is it because they know she is a cold-blooded reptile and not a warm-blooded mammal like themselves?

One evening, when her supper was served late because the maids came back late from the annual village Christmas party for housekeepers, drivers and gardeners, Myrtle went on a hunger strike. She refused to eat and just went to sleep in her dipping pool, her head tucked into her shell. From then on, her supper was always served on time.

Today Myrtle is twice as big as when she was discovered, and four white stripes have appeared symmetrically on her shell. I told the maids to decrease her food to prevent her becoming obese, but they said she was probably munching grass and leaves during the day.

Knowing that Myrtle is a reptile, I have never gathered the courage to carry her, whereas I love to carry and snuggle with my black Shih Tzu, Milo. Just the same, I care for my reptilian pet and not a day goes by when I don’t ask, “Has the turtle been doused with water?”

And when I go out to the laundry area after supper and see Myrtle sleeping contentedly in her dipping pool, somehow I get the feeling that all’s right with the world.