The lizard drama

 

The Great Lizard Drama of This Morning

There are a few things that make me uncomfortable. One of them is lizards.

When I was a young boy, there was an old saying that if you saw a lizard with two tails, it brought good luck. I remember finding what looked like two tiny lizard tails in a plastic bag somewhere in the house and being convinced my fortune had arrived. It didn't, but that's another story.

This morning, Chanel the cat was behaving very strangely. She was mewing, stamping her paws, jumping around and generally acting as if she had discovered something important.

Then I saw it.

On our cream carpet was a tiny baby lizard, almost exactly the same colour as the carpet. It had no tail and was still wriggling.

The moment I spotted it, my blood ran cold.

Now, all thoughts of kindness, conservation and wildlife appreciation disappeared instantly. My only thought was: that thing has to go.

I went looking for a broom.

No broom.

I looked everywhere.

Still no broom.

Meanwhile Chanel was hovering over the lizard like a security guard protecting valuable property.

Eventually I found one of those long-handled dust pickers. It wasn't what I wanted, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

First job: remove the cat.

This turned out to be more difficult than removing the lizard.

Chanel had decided that the lizard belonged to her and she was not giving it up without a fight. She was hissing, swiping, trying to claw me and generally behaving like a tiny tiger defending its territory.

Thankfully, Chanel is a small cat and I am considerably larger.

After a brief struggle involving some water spray, a lot of indignation from Chanel and a complete breakdown in our relationship, I managed to overpower her and move her to a safe distance.

She sat there glaring at me as if she was already planning revenge.

Only then could I turn my attention to the actual problem.

The lizard.

Or, as it had become by then in my imagination, a fully grown crocodile.

Then the real performance began.

I jumped onto the sofa.

Peered behind the sofa.

Jumped off the sofa.

Pulled the sofa out.

Nearly pulled a muscle in my back.

Jumped back onto the sofa.

Poked underneath with the long stick.

Retreated.

Advanced.

Retreated again.

If anyone had been watching through the window, they would have seen an elderly man repeatedly climbing on furniture, waving a stick around and looking mildly unwell.

After much effort, heavy breathing and a surprising amount of furniture rearranging, the battle finally ended.

The lizard was gone.

I stood there exhausted, breathing like I had just completed a marathon.

Chanel sat nearby watching the whole thing, probably wondering why I had taken over a job she was handling perfectly well.

So that was my morning.

Some people start the day with coffee.

Some go for a walk.

I spent mine conducting a military operation against a baby lizard, wrestling a furious cat, rearranging the furniture and nearly needing a chiropractor afterwards.

A perfectly normal start to the day. 😄