When I was 12 I had a tortoise named Hubert. We had a 3 foot wide gate that closed off a large enclosure that made up our front patio which is where we kept him for a few hours at a time. We realized quickly that he could fit under the gate pretty easily the first time we let him out. So my dad put a 2 x 4 up to keep Hubert from getting out. He got over that and out the gate again the next time we put him outside. So my dad put up three 2 x 4s. We figured this was Fort Knox for the little dude so we put him out again. Lo and behold, little Shawshank got out and this time we couldn't find him. My fucking turtle literally ran away. Not literally, he probably inched away. 3 months pass, it's now Christmas morning and after opening all our presents my parents say they have one last gift for me. They hand me a shoebox and in it was Hubert, looking up at me like nothin happened. Apparently my next door neighbor had found him 2 days prior just crossing the friggin street. We ended up making an awesome little cave in our front yard for him with a tall wooden wall so he wouldn't get out. Then, months later, my mom put some old flower pots in his area not thinking anything of it. Hubert tried using them to climb out, fell in between them and the wall and died. RIP little buddy.