Monday, August 23, 2010

The Cold-Blooded Intruder

I think that I am pretty agreeable with wildlife. It makes me happy to see them out in their natural habitats, grazing on grass, hopping in the fields, swimming in the ponds. What doesn’t make me happy is them gallivanting around in my house.

It all began when I was grabbing a few zzz’s before work about a week ago. When I sleep during the day the dogs join me. (Because they like sleeping during the day and then joining J while he sleeps at night.) Occasionally they wake up and wander around, but that’s only because something has peaked their interest.

Well on this particular day, I heard the dogs chains jingle their familiar “I might be getting in to trouble” chime, so I cracked open an eye. There were my two puppies trying to get under the decorative pillows we had stacked up in the corner of the room.

If I had been fully awake, I would have heard the scary movie music that usually plays in the background before something pops out of the closet or breaks in through a window. But no, silly me decided to want to find out what they were barking at.

So as a sling back the pillows from the floor to the bed, a GIANT lizard makes a beeline toward my toes as if it has just found its next meal and I jump out of the way and scream bloody murder. The lizard careens under my bed, and my doggie protectors run as fast as they can through the living room, kitchen and then proceeded up the stairs to some unknown location. This all happens in a matter of 30 seconds, with me still plastered to the floor in shock.

(What I thought I saw)

No, my dogs were not looking for back-up upstairs, J was already at work. I am assuming they ran upstairs to very possibly jump in the bath tub as they were also afraid of the big, bad, lizard. (Well they shouldn’t have been trying to get at it through the pillows!)

After 30 minutes, I coax my pseudoprotectors back downstairs – hoping that the culprit of all this mid afternoon excitement is still under my bed. With only one thought in mind, “you started this,” I throw the unbeknownst Cyrus (who has a 5 second memory most times) a toy under the bed so the lizard will come out the other direction.

It works, but I was not ready for the consequences. The dinosaur comes roaring back from underneath the bed to find solace under a pillow – but his tail is still showing.

I go to the kitchen and mentally flip through all the things I would be sad to miss if this alligator decided to be hungry – and if I ended up needing to cook with it one day. So I come back with a shallow Tupperware container.

On the count of three I lifted the pillow, but hadn’t correctly positioned the container in my hands, and it comes crashing - flat side down - on the prehistoric amphibian. Due to impenetrateable exoskeleton, the monster survives this insult and slithers back under the bed.

I send Cyrus’s toy, once again, under the bed, but this time our puppy has figured me out and runs back through the house and upstairs. Ginger is eyeing me from her lookout position on top of the bed, making sure I don’t try to convince her of the same fate.

I finally muster up the courage and remove things from under the bed. Much to my enjoyment … I mean dismay, the lizard isn’t there and I hope he has made his way back to his time machine to go back to the prehistoric era. Sadly, however, the realization is that he is probably hanging out our closet.

I again gather up whatever tiny courage I have left and start sifting through things on the floor of the closet. This animal, however, has evaded me again and probably used his razor sharp claws to scale the wall and removed the vent covering to get into the ductwork.

So I do the only two things I can afford to do, text my husband and forget the Komodo Dragon ever existed.

As I am at work that night, my text goes something like this. (Please don’t judge… too much.)

Me – “We have a lizard in our house.”
Me – “Probably under the bed.”
J – “How did that happen?”
Me – “I don’t know… The dogs all of a sudden jumped off the bed and started sniffing behind the pillows on the floor.”
Me – “I pulled them up and screamed. And it ran under the bed. I searched everywhere for flash lights but couldn’t find any at all.”
Me – “So it might still be under the bed.”

J doesn’t respond for a few hours…

J – “Did you see the lizard, was it big or small.”
Me – “About 8 inches long. Last known whereabouts our bedroom, but probably the closet now.”
Me – “Or underneath the furniture.”
J – “Really!!!! Im sleeping upstairs.”
Me – “Its black.”
Me – “It won’t bite! But I need you to get it.”
(I have now made an assumption that I have no idea if it is true or not.)

J – “I’m not getting it. I have goosebumps!”
Me – “Atleast I tried to trap it.”
Me – “It moves like a snake.”
J – “Then it probably is one…”
Me – “Nope, had legs.”

Justin doesn’t text back for a few more hours. Fearing for his life, I message back around 2:03 in the morning.

Me – “Did you get it?”
J – “No I’ve checked the whole house except for the closet and under the bed so make sure you close the door when you go into each room and make sure you look down when you open a door to see if he comes crawling out and leave the blankets and pillows where they are at. I love you. Going to bed.”

When I get home that morning, the house is in slight disarray, no lizard to be found, and the hubby did sleep in the guest room that night.

Thinking that we will find the lizard crustied up in some deep, dark location in the house six months down the road – we attempt to go on living our normal lives. Fear always lurking around every open door.

Four days later, we are relaxing in the kitchen waiting for our friends to show up so we could go to the county fair. Our house door was open, yet our storm door was shut so more light could brighten up our sad and dreary dispositions. We hear a light knock on the door and then the door opens – with a subsequent scream.

“Something just ran out of your house!!” Our friend calls out.

“Was it a lizard!?!” J and I say in unison, hoping our forked tongue intruder had finally shown himself the door. I also realized that I hadn’t told them about our lizard adventures.

“I… I think so.. It was big!”

And, thus hopefully concludes our story of the gigantic lizard. J did tell me later that he would rather confront a full grown tiger rather than lizards, snakes, or spiders. At least I know I will be safe if a giant feline makes its way across our threshold... I hope.

(This is probably what ACTUALLY escaped from our house.)

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