You wouldn’t think that there’d be so much wildlife in suburbia. I’ve got loads of non-writing related things to do at the moment, one of which included a drive to town this morning. When I got back and opened the security gate to come inside the house, a humungous lizard fell on my head, and got a good grip.
Not funny. Not funny. No matter how much I screamed, jumped, and shook my head, the bugger hung on for dear life until I physically had to hold him around his middle and put him down. Not a zen experience at all. I’ve never seen a lizard run so fast. That poor guy probably got a bigger fright than I did, but harmless as they are, I really don’t want to do that sort of thing ever again. Yesterday I nearly connected with a hairy baboon spider the size of a plum, clutching its ball of eggs, directly above the laundry room door. So I’ll just be wearing whatever’s in my cupboard until they hatch and it goes away.
It’s funny how much looks really matter to us. I know that some lizards can be really cute and friendly. There was one up in Zimbabwe that regularly popped into the kitchen for a snack. But the thought of actually touching a lizard creeps me out. We also had a rather large frog that came in every night and slept on a pile of files in a niche behind my desk. He really was a handsome specimen as frogs go, and eventually got named Prince. But even he went on an unscheduled trip when he hopped on to my naked foot when I was banging away at my keyboard in the early hours of one morning. He wasn’t hurt, I hasten to add, but his attempt at being a cute foot frog pet failed horribly, purely because of his looks.
My weaver birds on the other hand, get to do any old thing that they want to do because they score 100% on the cute scale. Jelly is the only bird I’ve ever seen that has pucker full-blown tantrums. If he feels that anyone else is getting too much attention, he’ll zoom around shouting for a while, and then head over and pretend to be an earring by munching down on my earlobe and refusing to let go. But this isn’t a face I could ever be cross with. Sorry grasshopper.
So. The moral of this completely inane bit of waffle appears to be that cute matters after all. And you have to be especially careful of humans if you are slimy or scaly in any way. And if all else fails, try and be as cute as you can. Back to work for me.