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.

5 Thoughts on “I’m Sorry Little Lizard

  1. I’m finding out that you are more like me. I’m constantly “saving” spiders and other crawling critters myself. Except for cockroaches and ants inside the house. Then I turn into a mass murderer. Sorry, Mother Nature, but that’s where I draw the line.

    It’s not your fault that the little lizard died. It was an honest mistake and not something deliberate. I’d like to think that everything happens for a reason. I’m sure you’ll be saving plenty of other critters down the road.

  2. I definitely don’t have a bleeding heard for scorpions and centipedes–and when I say centipedes, I mean the big Jurassic Park looking ones from Arizona that sting like a mother. I try to ‘relocate’ any other bug when possible.

  3. Kevin on 05/01/2009 at 6:41 PM said:

    yup – I am the same way, I even scoop up those pesky scorpions and let them go outside where I hope they will hunt down the noisy crickets and enjoy a nice brunch

  4. >the big Jurassic Park looking ones from Arizona that sting like a mother

    That would be Scolopendra. There are 2 species in Arizona, heros and polymorpha. They are popular items for collection at the Arizona bug conference each summer. They do sting (actually pinch- with venom!) like a mother- an associate of mine has a story about regaining consciousness 2 hours after being pinched by one.

  5. Cobban,

    I got a call from the great lizard spirit this morning. He said he that little lizard forgives you and that he was only in the house to get ready to pass on anyway. He chose that corner because it was quiet and smelled nice. Also, little lizard sends a wee hug to let you know it’s all good, no hard feelings and oh yeah, always wear your damned helmet.


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