This one's a shout-out to Erin, who promised to comment on my next more trivial post. Well, girl, here it is.
A tiny lizard scooted in the front door of our house this afternoon and had no idea he was marching to his almost-death. He was simply never going to be a match for our hefty boy, Solomon. See?
Sure, that lizard may have been quick as a fish, tucking inside the door faster than Kirk could say "Whoa!" but he vastly underestimated Solomon on two counts:
1. Solomon has nowhere else to be but in this house.
2. Solomon is easily entertained.
Well, maybe not so easily entetained. Mostly, he's just bored, sleepy, and hungry. But lizards? "Where's the fork and napkin?" he cries. "Let's get on the move!"
The lizard snaked into the house, around the table, and under the entertainment center in a flash . . . and then Solomon staked the perimeter.
"Beware," Kirk warned as I walked in a short time later. "We have a little friend in the house -- but don't worry! I think Solomon's got it covered."
And you know what? He did. In fact, we were pretty impressed with our boy. He did not desist from that post next to the entertainment center for one solid one hour. Granted, he lays in fixed spaces for longer periods than that most days, but hey, he doesn't usually stake it out on the concrete floor. Beds are more his style. They remind him of, well, you know: sleep.
And we had drastically underrated Solomon's tenacity. Because you know what he did next? He hulked his massive, gotta-be-at-least-twenty-five-pound mass under the entertainment center -- a space just five inches high but two feet deep -- which means he had to spread himself real thin, which must have been a true first for him, in order to go after that jumpy-legged lizard!
Next thing we knew, he had contorted himself alongside that skinny space and then flushed himself back out of it, covered from head to toe in . . . purple lint balls. Gross! I wiped them off and smoothed him down, but you know what? He went right back to it. He dove back under the entertainment center and yo-yo'd himself around for a good five minutes, popping out every once in a while for breath. I am telling you, the boy is tenacious. He sure can be relentless in his pursuit of the heftier dinner meats. Who knew?
Of course, he got the prize. When we found the two of them together a short time later, Solomon was sitting as pretty as can be under the coffee table, his arms folded underneath him and a superior air of satisfaction emanating forth. The mostly-dead lizard was pleading its life beside him. So what did we do? We did what only a humane couple would do: we grabbed some paper towels, scooped the lizard up, and deposited him outside in the world where he belongs. Only right now he's making his way in that outside world without a tail . . . a tail we trust Solomon will likely expel for us sometime in the night on the carpet. Good grief.