As a kid, I played outside. A lot.
I spent hours and hours in our yard or roaming the neighborhood.
I loved catching bugs and other
stray cats, bunnies critters…but catching lizards was my forte’.
I caught them all the time…loved them so much. I was the lizard whisperer.
He crawled up and down my arms, and he loved sitting on my shoulder. Parrot lizard.
He was my constant companion for a full day. I had visions of our life together…playing all the time, traveling the world.
I found a jar and made him a home for the night in my room.
The next day, I thought it would be a great idea to take him to school with me. Surely, he would get lonely at home all alone.
Being the girly tomboy that I was, I put him in my purse and headed for school.
I only shared my new lizard with a few friends that day…I did not want to risk getting into trouble. (I think I had hit my quota for classroom spankings already!)
Sadly, that night my lizard died. I was crushed.
It must have been the long commute on the school bus that did him in. I could barely stomach it myself.
Devastated, I buried him in the yard. I performed the private eulogy that he clearly deserved.
A few days later, I went to pay homage to my now deceased friend and he.was.gone.
The burial site wide open…my lizard had risen from the dead!
It was a miracle of epic proportions! He lives! He lives! He lives!
I was astounded. For days I looked for him, but sadly we were never reunited.
I never forgot our time together, he was a great pet.
In hindsight, maybe he was not so much‘Jesus like’ as much as my cats were excellent excavators.
I was a mini hawt mess.