Maybe the title is wrong. They WERE leapin’. Once. Now? Not so much…
So I have a confession to make. Yes, you’ll likely judge me. Or call PETA to report me, and I’ll end up with a bucket of fake lizard’s blood being hurled at my coat in public. It’s time you know what a monster I am.
Maybe you live in an area where salamanders are common. Here in NY, they typically aren’t, but for some unknown reason, my particular town has tons of them. On warm days, it’s not unusual to see them skittering around on the backyard pavement, darting to and fro.
And my kids LOVE them. Sometimes they spend hours trying to devise “lizard traps”, in which they attempt to lure said lizard into a trap filled with grass. But the little suckers are fast, so it’s nearly impossible to catch them.
Note that I said nearly.
A few days before the “incident”, I was in my kitchen when suddenly a tiny lizard dashed underfoot and slipped under the kitchen counter. I was not pleased. There was no catching it at that point, but I remember thinking, “That’s gonna come back to haunt me.”
A few days later, I was upstairs when I heard #2 clamor up the stairs, shrieking, “Moooom! There’s a lizard, in your room! On your bed!”
That’s right. On MY BED, people.
Suffice to say, that was NOT ok with me. I dashed downstairs into my bedroom, to spot, indeed, a wee lizard sitting on my pillow. Yes.
I called for #2 to grab me a container, anything, to try and trap the lizard into. She handed me a Tupperware, and I closed the door to “secure the perimeter”.
This was going to be tricky, because lizards have the gift of speed (a gift for them; a curse for me). And if I tried to pop the bowl on top of it and it ran off, it would be sure to disappear into the netherworld of spare boxes, bins, & dust bunnies underneath our bed.
So I started toward it, only to have it run across the bed and plant itself on The Captain’s pillow. I hurried to the side, and plop!- dropped the bowl over the lizard.
But… our mattress is a pillow-top, which means soft, & uneven. And despite my best efforts to clamp the Tupperware firmly over the lizard, it managed to wriggle its tiny body out from underneath it, & hustled again across the bed onto my side, soiling my sheets with it’s teeny, germy lizard feet.
The lizard was onto me; it knew I was coming for it.
It was even more skittish than a normally skittish lizard. I knew that if I didn’t capture it NOW, the little bugger would disappear under the bed, only to move family in & set up a lizard village, with a tiny lizard mayor & strolls through the dust bunny lizard village park.
Again I abruptly dropped the Tupperware over it. But I realized that I needed to secure the bottom with a firm surface; what to use?? Ah, the bottom cover of a notebook. Perfect. So I slid the cardboard under the Tupperware…slowly…slowly…
All that was left to do was to get the lizard OUT of my house. But my bedroom door was still closed, & in order to turn the doorknob, I’d have to put the Tupperware down.
I tried to balance the upturned bowl on my knee as I turned the knob & BAM!- dropped the Tupperware. DAMMIT. Thankfully, the lizard was still underneath it, but the cardboard had slipped out.
Here’s where things got dark.
I tried readjusting the Tupperware. And in doing so, the bowl moved one way, the lizard moved another way, and…
But that’s not all…
I was already gagging and guilt-stricken, realizing that I put the tiny lizard in pain. But then..
The leg kept walking. On it’s own. Away from its body.
Yes. The leg was walking one way, & the lizard was walking another. Where there was once one lizard, now there was one.. and a half? Or 3/4?
What is this black magic??
I gagged, & retched, & wailed, “I’m so sorry! So sorry!” & panicked some more, then- I jumped up & down in disgusted panic as my foot slammed down, HARD, on the Tupperware.
In a flash, I was Lenny from Of Mice And Men, getting all over-excited and destructive.
In trying my best to save the lizard’s life while getting it OUT of my house,
I’d killed it.
And it was over.
The climax was when the door flew open, revealing a smiling #2. You know, the ANIMAL LOVER. In an instant, her smile faded as she took in the carnage.
#2: “Did you get the liz– Ohhhh MOOOOOM!!!!”
Me: “I didn’t mean it!- I panicked!- Ahhh!”
I’m not sure who felt worse. And although I haven’t seen any other lizards in my house since, I’m sure its friends will one day come to avenge its demise at my clumsy feet…
© Copyright 2015 Six Pack Mom, All rights Reserved. Written For: Six Pack Mom