A couple of weeks ago, there was a little tiny lizard climbing up the curtains in the guest room. I was in a hurry to leave so I just left it there. Growing up in the hills of Southern California has made me kind of blasé when it comes to critters. Lizards, snakes and tarantulas don’t bother me at all—on the other hand, out of work actors, Mormons on bicycles and Sarah Palin send an icy chill up my spine.
I forgot about the lizard until this weekend when we were taking the Winter Solstice tree down. Mr. Lizard was in the corner behind the tree. I should have caught the little guy and moved him outside as it appeared he had starved to death (lord knows our fat lazy cat had nothing to do with its demise). My heart sank. Here we were enjoying the holiday by overindulging with food and spirits while the little creature lay there as its life slowly came to an end. I felt terrible.
It’s one thing to run over a creature on the highway. I’ve done it many times. They dart out on the road while you’re going 65 MPH. Sorry critter, if it’s a choice between saving you at the expense of risking my own life as well as the lives of my passengers, I’m going to win every time–not to mention that your death is fairly immediate as opposed to laying there on the floor shriveling up while some asshole with a martini is sitting right next to you chowing down yet another handfull of holiday cookies.
Most people wouldn’t care. “It’s just a stupid lizard” they’d say. “Something would have eaten it if it were outside anyway.”
In that case, they’re right. I can’t control what happens outside in the lizard world but…this was inside my world.