Leapin' Lizards

Dr. Beisemeyer was my Comparative Anatomy teacher. He was a calm and gentle man. He was not given to excessive emotion. But there was something important that he imparted to his students—something that he was absolutely passionate about—and that was that all living things were perfect. He taught that every species was designed flawlessly for its niche. Form and function were equal partners.

And he was so given to this concept that it was not unusual for him to interrupt class to catch a wayward insect and bring it outside to its natural habitat. He would say that the wayward insect did not understand that they were not designed to share a human’s dwelling place—and that humans were obligated to relocate wayward creatures to their proper environment.

Sometime in October I came out of the shower and noticed what I thought was a small green rubber lizard on the carpeting outside of my husband’s closet. I wondered how that rubber lizard could have gotten there. And then I realized that the lizard was alive.

When I see a spider I kill it. When I see a bee, I spray insecticide. When I suspect a mouse, I set up traps. And when the squirrel guy snagged the family of squirrels in a deadly device where they were living over my master bathroom, I cheered. I like critters, but I do not like them living in my house—wayward or not.

But the lizard was little and kinda cute. He looked like he could star in the Geico commercial. He looked lost. I felt sorry for him. So extermination never entered my mind. And in my towel I quickly found a plastic container that I had just used to water some plants and took my book club book and captured the lizard. And I did all before Cosmo--who was not paying close attention, could give chase.

And after I secured that the little creature I got dressed and walked it to the curb and set him free.

I felt like such a tree-hugger. I almost put on a pair of Birkenstocks and sang “Born Free” while strumming a guitar.

Dr. Beisemeyer would have been so proud—even though the inspiration for the lizard’s relocation came from an advertisement from a car insurance company—and not a genuine concern for wayward creatures. That little Italian wall lizard was now be free to make a home at my neigbor Jimmy's house.