really really funny stuff · Uncategorized

My Encounter with Gregor Samsa

a picture of a cockroad with the words "not a cockroach" above itI’m the one who let the dogs out.

Actually, I let the dogs out what seems like three dozen times a day, but it’s probably a lot more than that. It’s normally an incident-free type thing: open the back door, let the dogs into the backyard, and close the door.

This morning was not incident-free.

When I opened the back door, a bug that looked very much like a cockroach but moved so fast I couldn’t be sure came running into the house.

I screamed. Holy mother of fuck, what the fuck is that?

The bug was probably just about as freaked out as I was.

It had been sitting on the back stoop, minding his own business, when suddenly this huge thing (the door) came flying at it and two massive animals (each weighing under 10 pounds, but massive compared to him) jumped over it.

I ran to grab a heavy book – a college English textbook, which honestly isn’t good for much else – and by the time I got back, the bug that could have been a roach was hiding under the edge of the dog’s chewy toy.

Clever, right? It was a smart little bug, which made me question its roach status, and I had yet to get a clear look at it.

I kicked the chew toy away and tossed the book where the roach *should* have been, but instead the little bastard was too fast and ran under the black ottoman.

Totally smart.

Totally annoying.

I pushed the ottoman around, still holding the book, and it came out and hide under the big plush green hippo there.

Clearly, this was not a roach. Or if it was a roach, it was the most brilliant roach I had ever crossed paths with.

I decided to reason with it.

I put the book down.

“Just go outside,” I told it. “You’ll be okay, I’ll be okay, and you’ll get out of this alive.”

Maybe it heard me and understood me. Maybe not.

But when I came back with a broom and opened the back door, it managed to get under the sweeping part of the broom and made it out the door.

Alive.

It righted itself on the concrete of the back porch, and stared at me.

Was it a cockroach? Was it more than that?

I don’t know.

I got distracted because the dog wanted to come back in, and by the time I looked back at where it had been, it was gone.

really really funny stuff · Uncategorized

Dear Lizard – Don’t fight it

lizard on rock
This is not a picture of the actual lizard. I was too worried I would fail and he would die, so I didn’t take a picture of him because I didn’t want a reminder of him and his demise… Photo by Francesco Ungaro on Pexels.com

I’m terrified of spiders. Not shocking news, especially for anyone who reads this blog or knows me in real life.

What I’m not terrified of is lizards.

I love lizards.

I love them so, so, so much.

I love them so much that whenever I find their little desiccated corpses which means that one of them was brutally kitty-murdered, I’m super sad as I toss it into the trash. (Which doesn’t sound like I’m that sad, but, honestly, what else can you do with a little lizard corpse?)

So when the blinds in the living rooms shifted, I almost freaked out and ran away. Then I spotted a green tail sticking out. A second later, a green head popped out.

A lizard!

A lizard in the house…with the murdering kitties. And, to be fair, puppies. The puppies don’t catch them as often, but I do know that a certain puppy quite enjoys the hunt and is happy when she manages a kill.

I had to rescue it before it began kitty – or puppy – chow.

The problem with the lizards we have around are that they are fast, and they don’t like to be captured. If you foolishly try to grab them, they drop their tail and make a break for it while you have that completely natural reaction of “oh my god, there’s a part of a lizard in my hand!”

This time, though, I had a cunning plan.

Waiting to get put back up above the cabinets was a Halloween candy container that had a lid.

I could totally catch this lizard and save him.

The only problem was that he didn’t want me to.

I don’t think that it was because he enjoyed hiding the slats of the blinds – although, since I’m not a lizard, perhaps that’s actually some sort of spa-like experience for them, and he thought I was ruining his perfectly enjoyable afternoon.

I made a few ill-advised attempts to get him to jump into the container.

Hint: lizards do jump, but not into clear containers.

Instead, he jumped down to the window ledge or jumped back up into the blinds.

I knew I only had a few more chances before he would drop to the floor, hide under some furniture, and become kibble for one of the animals in the house.

“Get in the bucket! It will save you!” I told him.

“You’ll die! You’ll die!” Which, if he understood English, he might have taken as a threat.

I don’t think I suddenly convinced him with my yelling. I think he probably just ran out of options since I had been forcing him downward until the container was between him and the floor.

He jumped into the container.

“I have saved you, lizard!” I yelled at him as I rested the lid on top. I didn’t want to push it down – if he had been too close, I might have killed him, which would have made the entire ten minutes I’d spent on saving him into a wasted ten minutes instead of ten minutes that made me a hero.

I brought him outside onto the back porch, which meant the dogs wanted to come along, too. To try to keep him saved, I put the container down on a chair, above the dogs’ easy reach, and opened it.

He looked up at me.

“You’re free!”

He looked up at me.

“Get out of the bucket!”

He looked up at me.

“Let me rescue you!”

He still hadn’t gotten out of the bucket. I began to suspect that perhaps we had bonded, and now he didn’t want to leave me. I couldn’t blame him. I mean, who would want to leave me, especially after I saved their life?

But I knew it was best for him to rejoin nature.

I grabbed the bucket and tried to slide him out.

I guess lizards have super amazing pads on their feet because he didn’t slide. He stuck to the plastic side of the container. He didn’t budge.

“Don’t make me hurt you!” I said.

“Don’t fight it!”

Uh-oh.

Even as I slid the lizard to his outdoor fate, I couldn’t help but think of a particular episode of “Better Off Ted.” I couldn’t make the lizard watch it – he wouldn’t understand it, plus, having been forced from the container, he’d made a break for it, and I’d already lost him.

So here it is – for you – part of “The Great Repression”