Sun Mote Copse here's the situation--i kinda kicked your dog into the sun.

Although she didn't comprehend everything her mother said, Sugar listened with wide eyes, their dark depths glistering with fascination. Her mental image only bore a vague resemblance to an actual turtle, though she didn't know any better. She peered down at the cracked shell, brow slowly furrowing. If the shell was meant to protect the turtle, then where was it?

She bent to sniff at it, seeing no sign of any living creature, even when she nosed it, flipping it over. When it came to rest with its interior facing upward, an idea suddenly struck Sugar. She applied her teeth to the shell again, then carefully moved over to her hole. She was not nearly coordinated enough to use it as a scoop, though she did think to drop it, then kick some dirt into it. The sight made her emit a muffled squeak of joy.

She'd forgotten all about the shell's prior resident as she looked at Finley and said again (more clearly now that her mouth wasn't occupied), "Look!" And then in the very next breath, "Ky keeps?"