Christmas and a Lizard's Tale
by Steve West on December 5, 2021
One Christmas when Lauren was eight, like a lot of girls her age, wished for a pony. My backyard at the time was about the size of a Volkswagen Minibus. Despite her assurances that she would let it roam the neighborhood for sufficient exercise, I said, “Not this year,” as I pictured myself following the horse with a pooper scooper. But I offered her a compromise. We could go to our local PetSmart and pick out a smaller, indoor pet.
As Brenda, Lauren and I wandered the aisles looking at gerbils, hamsters, fish, and guinea pigs, she was unsatisfied with the store’s offerings. Until we went down the lizard aisle. She absolutely adored a pair of lizards that appeared to me to be semi-comatose. Her rationale was, “But they’re so cool looking! And they’re so fierce looking, they’d probably make good guards for the house.” I had no response, so we left the store two lizards richer.
Just after dinner one night, she came up to tell me there was ‘something wrong’ with one of the two lizards she holds prisoner in her room. “He’s just lying there looking sick,” she told me. “I’m serious, Dad. Can you help?” I put my best lizard-healer expression on my face and followed her into her 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!” Brenda exclaimed. “She’s having babies.”
“What?” Lauren 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 Brenda.
“Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?” she inquired (I think she 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!” Lauren agreed.
“Well, it’s just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know,” she informed me (again with the sarcasm). I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it. “Lauren, this is going to be a wondrous experience,” I announced. “We’re about to witness the miracle of birth.”
“Oh, gross!” she shrieked
“Well, isn’t THAT just great? What are we going to do with a litter of tiny little lizard babies?” Brenda 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,” Brenda whispered, horrified.
“Do something, Dad!” Lauren 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?” Lauren 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 Lauren holding the cage in her lap.
“Breathe, Ernie, breathe,” she urged.
‘I don’t think lizards do Lamaze,’ her mother noted to her. (Women can be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me is one thing, but this girl 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. West, may I speak to you privately for a moment?” I gulped, nodding for Lauren to step outside.
“Is Ernie going to be okay?” Brenda 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 Brenda.
We were silent, absorbing this. “So, Ernie’s just… just… excited,” she 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 Lauren back into the car. She was glad everything was going to be okay.
“I know Ernie’s really thankful for what you did, Dad,” she told me.
“Oh, you have NO idea,” Brenda 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.
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