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”

Uncategorized

When mom groups go from bad to worse…

Sign: Please don't drop off your unwanted pets and other animals here. We will just have to dispose of them.I admit, I love belonging to mom groups in Facebookland. They are full of drama and crazy. You don’t get to see that sort of thing in public unless you hang out at Wal-Mart at two a.m., and since I have no urge to be at Wal-Mart at all, much less at two a.m., I use my groups to keep me happy.

Sometimes, though, I have the urge to respond in a way that I know will get me kicked out. I can’t get kicked out because, as I mentioned, then I’d have to go to Wal-Mart, and that isn’t a good option.

Instead of posting my responses, I just write them down for myself. But this one is something I want to share because it’s coming up on Christmastime, and I know that this isn’t going to be the only post about getting a pet for the family.

The post was pretty simple – the mom asked what kind of pet she could get that would be “low maintenance.”* 

I couldn’t resist the urge to comment, so I kept it short and sweet: if you don’t care if the animal lives or dies, any pet can be low maintenance.

I’m not sure if she saw it, or if anyone else saw it, or if someone went ahead and deleted it because I’m such a mean bastard.

So here goes my full response:
Hey, we want to get a “pet” – you know, a living, breathing creature that that needs, love, attention, and all the basics of life (food, water, shelter) – BUT we don’t want it to be a hassle.

In fact, if it would take care of itself and clean up after itself, and not cost us any money, that would be ideal.

Actually, if it kept completely to itself unless we wanted to pay attention to it or show it off, that would be the icing on the cake.

Because while we love the idea of a pet, the actual pet part of it is just totally inappropriate for our busy lifestyle.

Plus, you know, sometimes we go on vacation, so we can’t take it with us, and what if we have kids that don’t like it or don’t want to take care of it?

It’s not like you can return it, and if you just set it free, people think you’re mean and callous, and we don’t want anyone to think of us like that. I mean, here we are, wanting to open our lives to this pet – we’re obviously loving and caring or we wouldn’t even consider it!

Picture of rock on beach
My pet rock, Rocky

*(Now, look, I do get it if you haven’t owned a pet before. You might be leery of that commitment. It last for years. We’ve had cats that lived into their twenties, dogs that cracked a dozen years, and even goldfish that made it through a decade! But if you need to question your readiness, it’s time to buy a nice cactus, not an actual living being that will rely on you.)