If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone
through the pet syndrome,
including toilet flush burials for dead goldfish,
the story below will have you laughing out LOUD!
Overview: I had to take my son's lizard to the
vet. Here's what happened:
Just after dinner one night, my son came up to
tell me there was "something wrong" with one of
the two lizards he holds prisoner in his room.
"He's just lying there looking sick," he told me.
"I'm serious, Dad. Can you help?"
I put my best lizard-healer expression on my face
and followed him into his bedroom. One of the
little lizards was indeed lying on his back,
looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do.
"Honey," I called, "come look at the lizard!"
"Oh, my gosh!" my wife exclaimed. "She's having
babies."
"What?" my son demanded. "But their names are
Bert and Ernie, Mom!"
I was equally outraged. "Hey, how can that be?
I thought we said we didn't want them to
reproduce," I said accusingly to my wife.
"Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in
their cage?" she inquired (I think she actually
said this sarcastically! ).
"No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I
reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet
voice, while gritting my teeth).
"Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed
"Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some
guys, you know," she informed me
(Again with the sarcasm!).
By now the rest of the family had gathered to
see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to
make the best of it.
"Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience,"
I announced.
"We're about to witness the miracle of birth."
"Oh, gross!" they shrieked.
"Well, isn't THAT just great? What are we going
to do with a litter of tiny little lizard babies?"
my wife wanted to know.
We peered at the patient. After much struggling,
what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly,
vanishing a scant second later.
"We don't appear to be making much progress,"
I noted.
"It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified.
"Do something, Dad!" my son urged.
"Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and
grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving
it a gentle tug. It disappeared. I tried
several more times with the same results.
"Should I call 911?" my eldest daughter wanted to
know "Maybe they could talk us through the trauma.
" (You see a pattern here with the
females in my house?)
"Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly.
We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage
in his lap.
"Breathe, Ernie, breathe," he urged.
"I don't think lizards do Lamaze," his mother
noted to him. (Women can be so cruel to their own
young. I mean what she does to me is one thing,
but this boy is of her womb, for God's sake.).
The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and
peered at the little animal through a magnifying
glass.
"What do you think, Doc, a C-section?"
I suggested scientifically.
"Oh, very interesting, " he murmured.
"Mr. And Mrs. Cameron, may I speak to you
privately for a moment?"
I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.
"Is Ernie going to be okay?" my wife asked.
"Oh, perfectly," the vet assured us.
"This lizard is not in labor. In fact, that isn't
EVER going to happen . . . Ernie is a boy. You
see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as
they come into maturity,like most male species,
they um . . . Um . . Masturbate. Just the way he
did,lying on his back." He blushed, glancing at
my wife.
We were silent, absorbing this.
"So, Ernie's just . . . Just ... Excited,"
my wife offered. "Exactly," the vet replied,
relieved that we understood.
More silence. Then my vicious, cruel wife started
to giggle. And giggle. And then even laugh loudly.
"What's so funny?" I demanded, knowing, but not
believing that the woman I married would commit
the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness.
Tears were now running down her face.
"It's just . . . That . . I'm picturing you
pulling on its . its . . teeny little . ."
She gasped for more air to bellow in laughter
once more.
"That's enough," I warned. We thanked the vet
and hurriedly bundled the lizard and our son back
into the car. He was glad everything was
going to be okay.
"I know Ernie's really thankful for what you did,
Dad," he told me.
"Oh, you have NO idea," my wife agreed,
collapsing with laughter.
Two lizards: $140.
One cage: $50.
Trip to the vet: $30.
Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard's
winkie: Priceless
Moral of the story: Pay attention in biology
class. Lizards lay eggs.