As you may know, our family includes among its members a very old Abyssinian cat named Rudy T. Rocket
(Named after the Houston Rockets coach Rudy Tomjanovich the first year they won the World Championship, which was also the year the cat was born. Consequently, this was also the year where Game 7 of the NBA Championship was interrupted so that we could all watch Al Cowlings drive O. J. Simpson around in a white Bronco on a Los Angeles freeway for several minutes after which coverage of the game was resumed as Bob Costas apologized for showing GAME 7 OF THE NBA WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP instead of riveting coverage of an SUV driving 30 mph on a freeway. I recently told a friend I didn’t like Bob Costas. He replied he had never heard of anyone who didn’t like Bob Costas and wanted to know why. Yeah. That’s why, but HOLY COW, I totally digress…)
Where was I?
Oh, yeah. We also have a 3 year old miniature dachshund named Buddy Love.
There was a brief period involving a fish tank, but other than that, we’ve stuck to the traditional pet scenario. Frankly, I’m not terribly interested in caring for an animal you can’t cuddle. Not that I’m much of a pet cuddler, but it’s important to me that this option is available.
That all changed Monday. We had some friends over for the 4th of July. The kids were playing in their rooms when my daughter announced to me that they had captured a baby lizard and were currently googling what supplies were needed to create a suitable habitat in order to keep one as a pet. I was mentally preparing my heartfelt speech about how wild animals should remain in the wild and that the best place for the (disgusting) baby gecko was in the garden, when I heard those four words a mother never wants to hear from her child:
“Dad said I could.”
The following is a short video of the latest edition to our household. (Did I mention that, while I don’t mind the chameleon-like anole lizards common to this area, I despise geckos with the blazing heat of a thousand white hot suns?)
So, it seems we have a new pet. However, when feeding time came around, my daughter chose to feed said pet a salad topping, which, I’m pretty sure doesn’t contain any crickets. But I could be wrong about that:
On the upside, I’m pretty sure the temporary lizard terrarium will be just that–temporary–because we’re just not lizard people. (Oh, calm down. I didn’t let her feed the lizard slivered almonds, and by “I didn’t let her” I mean my husband didn’t let her. Because who’s to say geckos don’t like almonds?)
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