I am the lizard king!
Unfortunately, I don’t mean that in a Jim Morrison kind of way, as much as I would like to.
I also don’t mean it in a smoky, lounge-y, lizard boot and belt wearing kind of way.
I mean it, quite literally.
Wow. I just realized it’s been a while since I have thrown up a post. Sorry for that. When life gives you lemons, you don’t have time to blog I guess. You’re busy peeling, and juicing and figuring out what the hell to do with this big pile of citrus left at your door.
What was I saying? Oh yeah.
I am the lizard king.
I pulled out of my driveway on Monday and had not gotten too far when I witnessed a real life episode of Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom going down on the sidewalk. Two crows were violently pecking at what looked like a snake.
I pulled over and realized that it was a fairly large lizard. Not even sure what kind they are… so much for my true monarchy… but they are all over the place in this neck of the woods, and usually the ones in our yard are smaller. I had not seen many older, longer ones out and about, so it grabbed my attention.
And this one was long. And when I say WAS long, I mean that literally, because the damn crows had ripped its rather long tail off.
Well that was bullshit, so I jumped out of the car, scared the birds of prey off, and looked down to see the tail squirming on one part of the sidewalk… and this poor lizard all curled up on another part.
The crows did not go far; they were hovering, anxiously waiting for me to leave so they could pounce and finish the job, but I would have none of it. I kept trying to get the lizard to move into the large bush right alongside of my neighbor’s driveway, but it started hissing at me.
Hello, savior here!
After several attempts, I ran back to my car. Within seconds the nasty black birds were back, trying to finish the job and fly off with their bounty. I grabbed a plastic newspaper bag, scared the little vultures off again, lifted the lizard and gently tossed him into the bush, where hopefully the thick leaves and branches would protect him.
I left the piece of the tail on the sidewalk so the birds would have something to eat and would hopefully be distracted. I didn’t want to mess up Darwin’s whole plan, for nature’s sake. I got back in the car and I drove off.
I walked past the scene of the crime later that day, while I was walking the dog. There was no police tape, no remnants of what had happened, so I can only hope that my new, confused friend is safe and sound… at least to tell the tale for another day.
The next day came and went like any other. I dreaded getting out of bed and facing the now growing bushel of lemons, but I did… only because a little dog was doing her “I gotta pee” dance.
I let her out the back door, but instead of going to the can, she immediately started playing with something on the patio… pushing it with her nose. I could not see what was so interesting, so I walked over, and there in a curled up, fetal-like position was another lizard. This one was intact, sort of…
I shooed the dog away, telling her to “leave it” and tried to get this lizard to also move to safety. The thing was half dead it seemed, and did not want to budge. I tried to coax her into slithering off… but she would have none of it. Finally I flipped her over to see what was what, and there were two holes in her abdomen. I could not tell if they were courtesy of my dog’s teeth or already there. My dog loves chasing creatures, but honestly, she is so timid of almost everything other than people, I don’t really know what she would do if she caught something.
Protruding out of the two holes were these pink, worm-like things… and I could not tell if it was the lizard’s guts or if maybe she was having babies. To be safe, I grabbed another bag, and this time, even more gently than before, I lay her on the deep cool grass in an area that was sheltered by a rose bush and some thick, cascading ground cover. I was hoping she would stay put and be safe underneath this little wall of nature. Just before I put her down, my dog ran to the spot I was moving to, and started sniffing and going crazy. She was excitedly trying to grab at something, and sure enough there was a loud rustling sound, and what I assumed was another lizard. I did not see this one, but I definitely heard the frantic noise and once again moved the dog away.
I put the injured one down, next to what was hopefully a friend or spouse, got the dog to finish her business and went inside…
It was odd… two days in a row of lizard rescue. Obviously it was random, but it didn’t feel it. It felt strange.
I have no idea what happened to either of those creatures. Perhaps we’ll meet again, somewhere down the road. Perhaps they’ll recognize me, perhaps they won’t. The time we spent together was short, and while my instinct to kill bugs and snails is usually automatic, this instinct was only to protect. I felt good, but also sad for these little guys… Running and gliding and doing that strange humping motion where it looks like they’re having sex with the ground… This is the life of a lizard.
What does it mean?
What does my life mean?
Deep questions for the king of the lizards.
I sighed… a deep, resolved yet contemplative sigh, and I grabbed a few lemons, realizing that if the message got out, if the world of lizards knew what happened and if heaven forbid, Gojiro took to land and ever attacked us, I would be safe. Surely he would know that I was someone to be trusted, someone good, and someone who tried to save his brethren.
Surely he would know that I am the king of the lizards.