Bett Norris

Perspectives

More on Lizards

I know, right? So, yesterday morning, I got into the shower, reached for the soap, and there it is. A lizard was sitting there on my bar of Dial. What could I do? No one can hear me scream. I bathed with shampoo, kept my eyes open, and got out as fast as I could.

I hate lizards. I hate that my cat loves them. I wanted to get Scout and fling her into the shower. Which she would have hated, because it was wet.

No one wins when there are hateful feelings. Except the lizard. He wins, because he knows I am not going to touch him, ever. He ignores my reactions, my fear, panic, and enjoys the rain forest ecosystem that exists in the shower. I can’t imagine an environment more to his liking other than the outdoors, where he belongs.

I don’t recall finding so many lizards in the house, living or dead, before we got Scout. She’s outside right now, and I really want to leave her out there. After a while, Scout gets scared of the great outdoors, cries pitifully to be let back in, and rushes through the door all “You wouldn’t believe what’s out there. Some things are bigger than me!” with wide eyes, begging to be petted until she is calm again, secure in her protected indoor life where she rules.

I hate this. I hate everything about it. Cats and lizards, for heaven’s sake. This is what I am reduced to writing about.  I read others’ blogs, and they write about fantastic vacations, wonderful experiences from their latest writer’s conference, bookstore appearances, great reviews, their special talents like sports or something, they give advice and recipes and links to great articles and videos. They are wise and funny and articulate and very helpful to the reader, very entertaining. They write about their home life and their family. They actually have lives to write about.

I write about my fear of reptiles and the North-South Korea relationship I have with a cat. I think I need therapy. I live in the DMZ between my cat and lizards.

Which is why I am sitting here writing the  instead of getting ready for work. I don’t want to go into the shower again. Ever.

 

 

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5 responses to “More on Lizards

  1. rachelspangler April 17, 2012 at 3:57 am

    LOL I’m with you. I HATE lizards. I hate them more than you do, because there’s no way I could stay in the shower with one. I would go from cool boi, to shrieking little girl in 0.2 seconds.

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  2. Sally Bellerose April 17, 2012 at 4:42 am

    Dear Bett,
    Please forgive me for the big smile on my face. It’s not that I like knowing that lizards creep you out. OK, it is knowing that lizards creep you out, but it’s not that I want you to have feelings you hate. It is that my lovely big strong beloved butchier-than-me spouse had a melt-down in Italy over lizards and I have fond memories of her shrieking like a girlie girl and moi coming to the rescue. Lizards do not mess with a girl in lipstick. Please know that I will fend off lizards for you, Rachel and any other sister or brother any time.
    But please, never throw a ball of any discription my way. sallyb

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  3. Beverly Fry April 17, 2012 at 12:27 pm

    Oh, my dear, dear bettnorris, lizardry is living life to the fullest. My 4-year-old dja’ua (granddaughter), Maiityaitsa, has lizards and insects who are her friends. She carries them in her hand, or her pockets, and gives them as gifts to acquaintances who come in her mother’s florist shop. Adults in Mai’s life believe the creatures seek her out because they sense that she is a safe place.
    David and I gave her a 100-piece bag of plastic insects and bugs—found in the party suppliy section at Walmart—for her birthday. This was a unique and inexpensive gift and the one she has played with the most. Now her home has plastic bugs in every corner, under all the furniture, in her toy box, and in the laundry. I suspect she takes lizards with her for her bath, real lizards.
    Maityaitsa especially likes spiders because “spider woman” is her paternal grandmother. Yes, that’s me, the respected weaver. I have woven each of my grandchildren a blanket of their own;the blankets I made for them are on theiir beds as reminders of “spider woman” stories from Native American lore as well as a reminder of me.
    Mai has an innate sense of dangerous creatures. She has been stung ONCE by a bumble bee on the beach in California. Bees are not native to that area but the little buzzer found Maityaitsa. She shed a few little tears over the sting but asked to take the bee home with her. I believe she left the beach in California at her Great Uncle’s house.

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