good charlotte...
Several months ago, we opened the big slider door to the screened back porch and enjoyed the fresh air for a while. Later that evening I was watching TV and took a quick potty break. As I walked through the kitchen and into the little vestibule where our bathroom is, I was surprised to find some new wall art! On the arch of the entryway, just like she belonged there, sat this beautiful bright green lizard. She had clearly viewed the open door as an invitation into the house.
A quick chase ensued, with me eventually winning (I think!), although by this time, the little anole was scared witless and covered in fur discarded by the dogs and cat who live here, which apparently accumulated on her during her frantic escape attempt. I washed the little beauty gently under the spray faucet and placed her in the aloe plant outside my back door.
I would have put her in the screened room again, but I feared two things: 1) her eminent demise at the paws of the cat, and 2) her not getting enough to eat. To my surprise, she made her own way back to the screen room. That was evidently right where she wanted to be, despite the risks of thing 1 and thing 2.
My little friend and I have had quite the relationship these past few months. During my brief visits to the back porch, I would see her cautiously watching me and studying my every move lest I decide to bathe her again. On one occasion, I screamed frantically as my Big Boy tried to make an appetizer of her, and several weeks ago I bought her flies and mealworms when she appeared to be getting too skinny. A few days later, I noticed her looking happy and healthy again. Whether it actually had anything to do with the flies or the mealworms, I'll never know.
I went out to water plants earlier today and found my friend, clearly distressed, on the floor of the porch. I tried and tried to save her, but she died in my hands a short while later. Here my heart is, aching for this poor creature, frustrated not to know why she had to go, and lonely at the prospect of not seeing her again.
In a modern day twist on an old literary classic starring a spider and a pig, she appears to have left me a gift before her passing... or more appropriately, two. There, in the corner where I would normally find my friend, are now two little miniature versions of her. While I never got around to naming their mom, I already know what to call them... Thing 1 and Thing 2.
A quick chase ensued, with me eventually winning (I think!), although by this time, the little anole was scared witless and covered in fur discarded by the dogs and cat who live here, which apparently accumulated on her during her frantic escape attempt. I washed the little beauty gently under the spray faucet and placed her in the aloe plant outside my back door.
I would have put her in the screened room again, but I feared two things: 1) her eminent demise at the paws of the cat, and 2) her not getting enough to eat. To my surprise, she made her own way back to the screen room. That was evidently right where she wanted to be, despite the risks of thing 1 and thing 2.
My little friend and I have had quite the relationship these past few months. During my brief visits to the back porch, I would see her cautiously watching me and studying my every move lest I decide to bathe her again. On one occasion, I screamed frantically as my Big Boy tried to make an appetizer of her, and several weeks ago I bought her flies and mealworms when she appeared to be getting too skinny. A few days later, I noticed her looking happy and healthy again. Whether it actually had anything to do with the flies or the mealworms, I'll never know.
I went out to water plants earlier today and found my friend, clearly distressed, on the floor of the porch. I tried and tried to save her, but she died in my hands a short while later. Here my heart is, aching for this poor creature, frustrated not to know why she had to go, and lonely at the prospect of not seeing her again.
In a modern day twist on an old literary classic starring a spider and a pig, she appears to have left me a gift before her passing... or more appropriately, two. There, in the corner where I would normally find my friend, are now two little miniature versions of her. While I never got around to naming their mom, I already know what to call them... Thing 1 and Thing 2.
posted by Christina at 10:34 AM
1 Comments:
I SO get this. My little babe was an 11 day old starling. Her fuzzy, feathery absence was felt tremendously in our hearts when she disappeared from the nest we so carefully constructed...if only as much thought was given to location. Stray cats for sure.
I love your recollection of this rendezvous--my, my, what simple mindfulness affords our weary minds.
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