You Said You Lost The "Big Guy"?

So, after reading the other post from today, you may be wondering why the Tegu is called The Puppy. You might be worried about me and thinking, whoa, Chris, that thing might eat a puppy, but it is not, itself, a puppy. This, I would grant, is a very valid point and one I wish you could make, on by behalf, to the Lizard Man. The Lizard Man, you see, is the mastermind behind this whole herpetological clusterfuck that I call my summer living situation. And, from time to time and against my best wishes, he "surprises" me when I get home exhausted from work with another addition to the crazy, Reptilian Adams' Family we got going on. A couple of weeks ago I had just such an experience.

In the Lizard Man's defense, I get up early; 6:30 a.m. I then walk a mile to get a bus and then take another bus to get to work; the process repeats itself in reverse, although most days, I don't wait for the second bus and just walk the 2 miles or so home. It's good exercise and, after sitting at a desk all day, I feel like walking. Unfortunately, I get mad tired. When I get home, I just wanna make my dinner, watch some TV and go to bed. I had successfully begun the first two of those three activities; I was almost home free. While sitting on the couch and enjoying a delicious bowl of Annie's Mac and Cheese and watching Jeopardy, the Lizard Man comes into the room. This, alone, puts me on edge for the previously stated reasons. He calmly wanders around, surveying the entire room, before stopping in front of me. Looking back at the whole thing now, he should not have been that damn calm. I look up to meet his gaze, cause he's starting to creep me out more than usual at this point, and he asks, again very calmly, "Have you seen the big guy?" To which I, very rudely, I know, respond with a mouth full of mac n' cheese, "What?"

"Have you seen a big lizard wandering around in here?" Now, I think it's important to make a side note at this point, given that you, the reader, are not fully aware of all the creatures living in the house. There are turtles that just wander around the house. There are geckos in the bathroom (more on these little perverts later), but they are only about six inches long. The water monitors downstairs, however, are a good foot to two feet in length. You add to that the fact they are related to Komodo dragons, which is to say they have venomous saliva, and frankly they're too damn big for my tastes. So to now the Lizard Man, himself, refer to "a big lizard" in the house, bigger (one has to assume), than any of the other terrors in the house was not exactly what I was hoping to hear. So, still with a mouthful of macaroni, given that I was afraid of swallowing and chocking on the next thing he'd say, I again asked, "What?" Since I wasn't really being very helpful, the Lizard Man kind of gave up on me at this point and again started looking for the "big guy." Unfortunately for me, as he mentioned that the "big guy" likes to hide under the couches, he also started to look under the couch that I was sitting on.

I want to be clear. I do not consider myself in very good physical shape. Those of you who know me, know that I'm skinny like a stick, but that's probably more to do with an overactive metabolism that I should get checked out than it does with any healthy physical activity I do. I can't run very fast and when I try I feel sick; I can jump maybe three inches off the ground. Miraculously, however, upon seeing the Lizard Man look underneath the couch I was on, I not only reacted with surprising agility, but I think I straight-up levitated off the couch. (Look for my upcoming blog on my daily training as a Jedi.) After a quick scan, the Lizard Man was quick to reassure me, though, that the lizard was not underneath my couch. I just gave a very collected, very nonchalant, "Oh, word..." before sitting my terrified ass down. When he looked under the other couch, though, we all got a little lucky and he said, "Oh, sweet, here he is!" "Oh, that's great news," I said. As he proceeded to pull the approximately three foot long and one foot wide, giant-ass (that's a special Herpetological term to describe size) lizard out from under the couch, he said "Meet 'The Puppy!'"

The way in which The Puppy was trying his damnedest to stay underneath the couch and run away from the Lizard Man should have struck me as funny at the time. So too was his reference to the lizard as "The Puppy." For some reason, though, the humor was lost on me. Everyday, I contemplate taking the Lizard Man aside to show him the Google images results for "puppy." Who knows, while studying reptiles and amphibians all the time, maybe the dude has never even seen a dog before. Or maybe he's blind and I should replace all these crazy ass animals with Dachshunds and plastic, rubber snakes. If I see him walk into a single door frame in the next couple weeks, Operation Mr. Magoo will go from the planning phases to full implementation. I'll keep you posted on developments.

Do I Need to Show You Pictures of Puppies...?

So, I was hungry yesterday afternoon-ish when I remembered I had a delicious bbq chicken pizza, waiting to be made, in the freezer. As I bounded down the stairs, two at a time, beside myself with hunger and anticipation I thought I heard a weird noise coming from the first floor. There is a bathroom on the first floor, but its broken/too gross to be used, so I couldn't understand why there was a noise that sounded like a running shower coming from the kitchen and living room area. As I flew into kitchen I discovered where the noise was coming from. The Tegu, aka The Puppy, instantly froze upon seeing me, as did I upon seeing him, and for a couple of seconds it looked like he was planning on standing his ground having now claimed dominion over the kitchen and my pizza. Just as I was about to slowly back the hell out of the kitchen and settle for a Lucky Charms dinner up in my room, The Puppy freaked and started, essentially, sliding as fast as he could manage out of the kitchen and away from me. You see, his freakishly long claws, which could probably sever my arm with little effort, aren't well adapted to running on wooden floors. Another reason, if there weren't enough already, why a South American lizard like a Tegu should not be kept in a converted barn in Western Massachusetts.

You know how in school and at zoos you're always told, "Don't worry, even big, scary animals are more scared of you then you are of them." You know how the general reaction we all have to that is usually some version of "You are so full of it"? Well, they do have a point. Cause, although the dude in the picture above is probably a little bigger than The Puppy, he isn't that much bigger; if I had to guesstimate, I would say that The Puppy is a solid 3 or 3 1/2 feet long and at least a foot wide. In other words, he is a big mamma jamma, and yet he ran away from me like I was Rambo, if Rambo had shrunk, suffered some serious weight-loss and was a world-renowned Tegu killer in his free time. Needless to say, I did not see any more of The Puppy for the rest of the day and was left very much in peace to make my California Pizza Kitchen-ey goodness.