I can’t
remember exactly when Riley’s fascination with reptiles began; it seems at this
point like he’s always had a special place in his heart for all kinds of
creatures scaly and slimy. (Well…someone’s gotta love ‘em, right? Shudder…) And
for years, now, on and off, he’s been lobbying with varying degrees of
insistence to get a non-furry pet of his own. His animal of choice would be a
frog or toad, but…let’s face it, there are all sorts of valid objections—at
least in his parents’ eyes, that is.
The primary
problem, of course, is dietary…specifically the fact that these darling little
guys prefer to munch on insects…of the “live” variety. And to be perfectly clear,
there is no UNIVERSE in which I would be entirely happy with crickets living (even for a short time on their way to becoming a meal) in
my refrigerator. (I know, I know, it’s become trendy for even humans to eat
them these days as a source of protein and nutrition, blah blah blah. But even
if I weren’t a vegetarian….just…eww…)
Then
there’s Husband’s…somewhat less rational…phobia: that he’ll wake up in the
middle of the night with a 4-legged hopper SITTING ON HIS FOREHEAD. (Seriously,
dear? You might want to talk to a professional about that one—intelligent,
vengeful amphibians who break out of their cages and stalk you in the wee
hours. I’m just sayin’…)
Anyway,
between the bugs and the habitat requirements to keep such water-loving
specimens content, even Riley admitted that his beloved frogs and toads might
be a bit much for us to handle. Not to be deterred, though, he quickly rallied, and
switched his focus to their…drier…cousins: lizards. However, this, too, proved
discouraging once he started to research the food (again with the dang
crickets! Or mealworms—equally icky…), the fussiness of some species in terms
of temperature (monitoring a heat lamp—one more detail to manage), etc.
So the
whole issue was back-burnered for a while—until a family friend asked if Riley
would be available during Spring Break and willing to care for their
pet…lizard…while they went on vacation. Uh…of COURSE he would! (Gulp…) As it
turns out, they bought their crested gecko specifically because it does NOT
feed on creepy-crawlies (Whew!) and—aside from liking its enclosure on the
humid side—has few environmental demands, either. (Yay!) All of this was
earnestly conveyed to me by my friend, reassuring me that it would be both safe
and simple to have Kiki as a temporary houseguest. (Side note: she admitted that the family is not at all sure of Kiki's gender, so we'll go with the neutral pronouns from here on out...wouldn't want to offend our androgynous reptilian pals, right? Or whatever....)
After we formally agreed
to the lizard-sitting duties, Kiki was ceremonially driven over to our
house and deposited in a place of honor on the living room coffee table. We gathered
around to hear the instructions for her upkeep and to avidly watch her…hide
shyly behind the plastic tree in her tank and ignore the hubbub. Not terribly entertaining,
I must say. But on the plus side, the entire set of directions for “How to Keep
Him/Her Alive” consists of the following: 1) mist the cage when necessary to
maintain some moisture in the atmosphere; 2) each evening, remove the previous
day’s dinner, then mix a fresh batch--which is one small scoop of a tropical-fruit-smelling
powder and water--to form a paste; 3) empty and
refill the water dish; 4) just kidding—that’s it!
As you can
see, this whole task could not have been easier, so we were pleased to
accommodate our visiting reptile. We found out over the next few days that it
appeared to be more active in the early a.m. hours; we’d often come downstairs
just after waking up and find it clinging to the glass wall of its habitat, or
lounging in the fake tree, or even perched on the side of its water bowl.
Aaaannnnd…that was about the extent of its antics.
Ooh, except
for that one time it was actually plastered to the door that Riley would have
to open to perform his nightly care tasks, and I—very helpfully, I thought—attempted
to persuade it to relocate by gently tapping the glass and repeating in a soothing,
encouraging voice, “C’mon, Kiki, you’ve gotta move, now. Let’s go—you can DO it!” Derek stood nearby, witnessing this nonsense with a wry expression as the
lizard completely ignored me, disdainfully. (Wait—are reptiles capable of complex emotions
like that? Eh, heck if I know—no one ever called me a…lizard whisperer…)
Finally,
unable to restrain himself any longer, Derek commented, “Ya know, Mom, there
are signs at the zoo that tell you NOT to knock on the glass!” Why, thank you,
son, that’s super-informative—and can you see how totally traumatized she is by my
supposed harassment? (Pffftt--uncooperative creature! She did eventually, at a time of her
own choosing, decide to leap down toward the floor of the cage—it was by far the
most excitement we experienced in 5+ days of Operation Lizard Watch, I tell ya…)
All joking aside, overall I have nothing to complain about, since as pets go, the lizard is completely silent,
odorless, and—not only does it NOT eat bugs, it subsists entirely on a product
that emits an aroma very much like a delicious banana smoothie. So I let a few days go
by before I casually asked Riley if having a lizard in the house had renewed
his enthusiasm for getting one of his own. To my surprise, he thoughtfully
replied, “Noooo…I think it’s too much work, with all the other things I already have going
on. I’d be worried about having something else to add to the stuff I have to get
done, every single night.”
Huh. I absolutely expected that to go the 100% opposite
direction, and had braced myself for the fact that I’ve put him off for so
long, I might just have to suck it up and give in…or, you know, NOT! So, while Riley agreed that it was nice to "borrow" his friend's gecko, and that he was okay with stepping in anytime they needed a short-term reptile-hotel for a few days, evidently Casa
WestEnders will (mostly) remain a blissfully reptile-free zone…For. The. Win!
