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.
