Although George the last Pinta Island tortoise did have a return story in my book Deader Than a Dodo, his presonal Lazarus Tale is yet to be written. Lonesome George's account of his extinction as read in my book, Deader Than a Dodo. Excerpt 1 - Chapter 1 “Why do I hate you? Let me count the ways. I hate your yappy little dog. I hate the fact that you are staring at me with that high and almighty grin again. I hate the fact that you have no control over your child. I mean seriously lady, are you even paying attention to what your kid just did or do I have to come over there and say something?” “Excuse me! Who are you to tell me how to raise my sweet darling? It is good for him to have the freedom to express himself and…” she replied. “Express himself? Your kid just threw a rock at me and laughed. You think allowing your little monster to hurl rocks at me is funny and a freedom of expression!? Why don’t you come over here and let me express myself! I’ll just add your lack of parenting skills to the reasons I despise you!” I retorted. “But you don’t even know me. How can you say you hate me? Who do you think you are?” “I know your type. I don’t have to know you, to know you. You people are all the same in the end. I don’t even know why I bother talking to you people. You’re lucky I don’t have thumbs, or I’d come over there and grab hold of you and…” That was how the conversation would play out in my mind with those people who stared at me every day. But when I screamed at them at the top of my lungs, all that came out was, “Hssss! Hssss! Hss! Hss!” The people thought that was so cute, which only made me angrier. Who am I? ‘Lonesome George’ they called me. The “most endangered animal” and “rarest reptile” as deemed by the people from the Guinness Book of World Records for the past 40 years. They said I was “effectively extinct while still alive”. That title pretty much explained my plight. One is the loneliest number that might seem cliché to say, but knowing I was all alone, totally alone, made depression part of my daily life. Sure, if I was a tourist basking on the deck of some cruise ship sailing the Pacific, I might love my life here in the Galapagos, but I was simply a tortoise, a slow-moving behemoth. Until 1971, people would stop by Pinta Island, like the rest of the Galapagos Islands, to see the tame creatures like us tortoises. “Pinties” they used to call us. Being a tortoise, I couldn’t tell anyone that all the Pinties were disappearing. I also couldn’t explain how angry I got when I would see a tuft of grass, start moving toward it, only to have some hippity hoppity goat beat me there first. I never understood why people put those goats on our island in the first place. There was nothing I could do but wallow in self-pity (and my mudhole) waiting for some person to turn me into soup, like the rest of my family and friends. People were supposed to be so smart, but I had yet to see evidence of that. I mean seriously, it took a little girl stopping by Pinta Island to point out to her tour guide that I seemed lonely. Well, of course, I was lonely! I had not seen another Pintie in years! Soon after that, some scientists showed up, talking about how excited they were to find me. At first, the feeling was mutual. Finally, someone could get rid of all of these goats and leave me alone. That dream was short-lived though, as they gathered around my shell and took measurements while flashing their toothy smiles. Those scientists finished measuring me, and before I knew what was happening, they hoisted up my left side, slid some kind of rope under me and tied me up. They were making me leave, not the goats! I knew I was supposed to be a tame, pleasant-tempered Galapagos tortoise, but that day I was hissing mad. I didn’t know what was happening at first, but I was lifted off of the ground by some sort of log with ropes and carried off by a bunch of people. I must admit that that experience itself was a bit exhilarating, until they dropped me in some crate, slammed the lid shut, and left me peering through six small holes as we ventured out to sea. In that one day, I had flown like a frigate bird and sailed through the water like a marine iguana, but that would be the last exciting thing I’d ever do. I was taken to a concrete enclosure at the Charles Darwin Research Station. I was there to be studied, measured, tested and talked about. They really made a big deal out of me. I had overheard them talking about a 150-year-old female Galapagos tortoise somewhere in Australia. At first, I was still optimistic that one of my relatives had survived being made into tortoise soup. I wondered what it’d be like dating a tortoise that old, but she turned out to be a different subspecies. If nothing more I could wait at the research station in peace and quiet, away from those obnoxious goats until I met my end. The scientists of the CDRS scoured the earth; all of the world’s zoos and private animal collections for a female Pinta Island tortoise, but their efforts were fruitless. Realizing I was actually the last of my species was a real low point for me. I would never have an awkward first date, have turtlings of my own, or even get to talk to another Pintie again in my life. I regretted not dating when I was in my forties or fifties. I thought I had a good hundred years to meet someone. I figured I was too young to settle down back then, but now I knew for sure I’d never get a chance. The people at the CDRS even posted a $10,000 reward for anyone who could find another Pinta Island Tortoise. They might as well have made it a billion dollars because it wasn’t going to happen. It would bother me so much when some kid would stand there with his family and say, “Mom, I don’t understand why he’s called Lonesome George when he’s in there with two other Galapagos tortoises. They look the same to me.” Even though I knew he couldn’t understand me, I would hiss, “They look the same to me? They look the same to me! We are completely different subspecies! How’d you like me saying, yeah that little boy and that monkey look the same with their big eyes, weird smiles, and opposable thumbs. Why don’t they form one big happy family?” Excerpt #2 - Chapter 6 Introductions I felt pity for Benjamin and the rest of the creatures assembled, but I could feel my face begin to flush as it was my turn to speak. I wanted to impress this group that I was supposed to lead. Okay species, chosen name, location, an interesting fact, extinction date. I reassured myself that I could do that. “George, you share as much as you want to. Most of us here know something about you anyway, and you are the one who this mission centers around. No pressure,” Eldey said, smiling at me. “Oh… I’m a…I’m a Pinta Tortoise Island. I mean a Pinta Island Tortoise. I chose the name George after the name I have been given by the people since they found me alone on my island in 1971. The people used us tortoises for food while they explored the Pacific Ocean or while hunting pods of whales for oil. Pinta Island is part of the Galapagos Island chain near the country of Ecuador, South America in the Pacific Ocean. I really hate… I mean I really dislike goats. The people put them on my island, and we tortoises couldn’t compete with them. I have spent the past 40 years, alone at the Charles Darwin Research Station known as the rarest and loneliest animal on earth.” I saw looks of sympathy and compassion from the group. I paused, thinking I had said my piece but then remembered to add my final requested piece of information, “Even though I apparently had many years left back there, I have chosen to go extinct … today… June 24, 2012.” I exhaled a deep breath, bowed like the others before me, and stepped back into line.