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 reason, my town has tons of them. On warm days, it’s not unusual to see them skittering around on the pavement.

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 a tiny lizard dashed underfoot, slipping under the 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.”

Yup.

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.

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I dashed downstairs into my bedroom, to spot, indeed, a wee lizard sitting on my pillow.

Sitting.On.My.Pillow.

Image Courtesy of www.lefunny.net

I called for #2 to grab me a container to try & trap the lizard. 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).

If I tried to pop the bowl on top of it & it ran off, it would 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 over and plop!- dropped the bowl over the lizard.

But…

our mattress is a pillow-top, which means soft, & uneven. Despite my best efforts to clamp the Tupperware over the lizard, it wriggled its body out from underneath it, & hustled again onto MY side of the bed, soiling it with it’s teeny, germy lizard feet.

The lizard was onto me.

It was even more skittish than a normally skittish lizard. I knew 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 dropped the Tupperware over it. I knew I needed to secure the bottom with a firm surface; what to use?? Ah, a notebook. Perfect.

So I slid the cardboard under the Tupperware…slowly…slowly…

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GOT IT.

YES.

All that was left to do was to get it OUT of my house. My door was still closed, & in order to turn the knob, I’d have to put the Tupperware down.

I tried to balance it on my knee as I turned the knob- and dropped the Tupperware. Thankfully, the lizard was still underneath but the notebook had slipped out.

Here’s where things got dark.

I readjusted the Tupperware. And in doing so, the bowl moved one way, the lizard moved another way, and…

I.CUT.OFF.ITS.LEG.

But that’s not all…

I was 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 another. Where there was once one lizard, now there was one.. and a half? Or 3/4?

What is this black magic??

I panicked.

I gagged, & retched, & wailed, “I’m so sorry! So sorry!” & panicked some more, then- I jumped up & down in panic as my foot slammed down, HARD, on the Tupperware.

In a flash, I was Lenny from Of Mice And Men, getting hyper & 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.

Well, almost.

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 by my clumsy feet…