Chapter 3
Chapter Three
The lizard—clutching the soggy hunk of bread—glared at me from the tank. It didn’t seem impressed by its new home. It had squeaked and wailed for several minutes before settling on glowering.
“Don’t worry, I’ll fetch you some nice things to make your new place comfortable.
” I’d cleaned it out since my last pet died, a gecko named Yoshi.
I’d been thinking of replacing him but hadn’t found the time to hit the pet store.
It seemed kind of fortuitous that this one ended up landing in my pot, but I did wonder at its type.
It definitely didn’t look like any reptile I’d ever seen.
For one, its color. Burnt orange. Most of the island lizards ranged from gray to green.
While bigger than a gecko, the moist newness of its skin made me think it had recently shed.
I’d have to take a peek online to see if I could figure out what I’d captured.
Hopefully not something rare and restricted.
Then again, I could always claim ignorance if someone ratted me out—ahem, my grandfather.
Tutu sulked in the living room. He hated lizards.
Called them vermin and yet, while he grumbled, he’d never actually forbade me from keeping one.
As he claimed, better something in a cage than a shedding cat or dog roaming the house.
Having various pet lizards growing up had been his concession, granted only because my grandmother told him either he let me get a lizard or she’d find me the biggest, slobberiest dog available. She never took his crap.
I headed outside and gathered some leaves and then some fruit from the mango tree since Tutu claimed he’d seen it stealing some earlier.
I headed back inside to find my lizard trying to scale the glass with its little claws.
It didn’t work, and I giggled as it kept sliding down.
I dumped the leaves into the tank and placed the mango in there as well.
In the kitchen, a rummage through the cupboards resulted in a shallow dish, which I filled with water.
Would I need a mister for the tank? Given its skin didn’t appear dry and scaly, most likely.
For the moment, all I had was a spray bottle, which I filled.
As I re-entered my bedroom, I gaped to see the smart bugger had pushed its hunk of bread close to a tank wall and stood on it, hopping, trying to grab the edge.
“Aren’t you just the cutest little escape artist,” I cooed as I placed the water bowl in the bottom.
I then spritzed some droplets to keep the place damp, which led to more glaring.
I’d found a lizard with character. “You’re going to need a name.
” Given the bright orange color, and the way it kept hopping, trying to reach the top edge of the tank, I suddenly smiled.
“I think I’ll call you Tigger because, even if you’re not a striped tiger, you’re ferocious like one.
” I’d loved the Winnie the Pooh story books my grandmother used to read to me.
Tigger continued to eye me balefully but then ruined his ferocious expression by crossing its little wee arms.
So stinking cute. “Don’t be mad. I’m going to give you a good life. Lots of food and tummy rubs.” Hopefully it wouldn’t bite my fingers.
Since Tutu had begun watching an old war movie, I closed my door and turned on the small television on my dresser, flipping the channels until I found a show I liked called The Righteous Gemstones. Absolutely insane comedy about a rich preacher family featuring John Goodman.
To my surprise, Tigger dragged his bread over to the corner closest to the TV, sat on it, and watched.
Given its interest, I began explaining the characters and plots points.
Weird? Totally, but it had been ages since I’d actually hung out with anyone not related to me.
My best friend had moved to O’ahu for better job opportunities and gotten married.
She had two kids now keeping her busy so our visits had become few and far between.
With my work, and Tutu—who, while a grown capable man, failed at taking care of himself—I couldn’t seem to find the time—nor did I make the effort—to establish a new friend.
Probably not a good thing. I’d hate to end up grumpy like a certain someone I knew.
At ten o’clock, I turned off the television, and my new lizard made a noise. It also shot me a look as if to say, “turn it back on.”
“Time for bed. Speaking of which, here’s something a little cozier than your soggy bread to snuggle.” I yanked off my T-shirt and folded it before placing it in the tank. I didn’t use a clean one in the hopes of getting it used to my scent.
I went to sleep, and when I woke in the morning, Tigger had burrowed into the fabric.
I noticed it had eaten the rest of the bread and the mango.
Goodness. Where did it pack it all? Its round belly appeared distended.
Had it overeaten? I probably should have tried harder to remove the bread.
Baked goods could cause digestive issues for some animals.
I headed into the kitchen to find Tutu already there reading his paper—which had gotten thinner over the years and appeared to be more ads than content—and drinking his coffee.
“Morning,” I chirped, cheerful as could be mostly because I knew it drove him nuts.
“Nothing good about it.”
Luckily, I loved him or he’d get a frying pan to the head.
Speaking of which, I pulled it down and cooked up some eggs and sausages, cut up some fruit, and squeezed myself a fresh glass of orange juice.
I sat down across from Tutu, who shoveled his food as if I would steal it.
One day, I just might for the entertainment.
“When’s the new batch of obsidian supposed to arrive?” I couldn’t finish the work on Jameson’s project until I could melt some more.
“This afternoon. Delivery truck broke down and ended up in the shop.” A delay that obviously vexed Tutu.
“In that case, I’m going to run into town and grab a few things.”
“Like what? We just did groceries.”
“I need stuff for my new lizard.”
“Vermin,” he muttered.
“It’s harmless.” I hoped. I really should try to figure out what I’d caught. What if it were poisonous? Better not lick it. “I’ll be back in an hour or so.”
“Whatever.”
I peeked in on Tigger, who remained asleep. Just in case it woke hungry, I put another mango in the tank and the sausage I didn’t eat then headed out.
The pet store had everything I needed. Mister, water dispenser, freeze-dried bugs, proper coconut bedding, and the thing that made me most giddy, a harness and leash made specially for lizards.
Was I going to walk it? Probably not, but this would allow me to bring Tigger around with me without fear of it escaping. Over time, maybe my new pet would love me enough it wouldn’t run away.
I returned to find Tigger pacing and the food gone. Soon as it heard me, it whirled and waved its little paws.
“Hello to you too. Did you miss me?”
It pointed to its mouth. My jaw dropped in astonishment. Surely it hadn’t just communicated.
“Are you trying to tell me you’re still hungry?” I laughed and shook my head. “You must be a growing baby with the amount of calories you keep packing away. Good thing I went shopping. Look, I got you some presents.”
Tigger remained less than impressed as I swapped out the items in the cage, except for my shirt, in the hopes he’d get used to my scent. In better news, I didn’t get bitten, probably because the little reptile sulked.
“Want some crunchies?” I dumped some freeze-dried mealworms and crickets into the cage.
I swear, if it had an eyebrow, it would have arched. Its lip definitely curled.
“Not a lover of bugs, eh? Want more fruit?” I asked, even as I knew better than to expect a reply. Apparently, I was working on becoming a reptile version of the crazy cat lady. I’d be safe so long as I didn’t acquire too many more lizards.
I brought my pet an overripe banana and a stale bagel I found in the fridge. After I placed them in the cage, I hit the washroom to deal with a call from nature. By the time I returned, bagel and banana? Gone.
“Where are you putting it all?” I murmured. Didn’t seem normal a lizard could eat more than its body weight.
“Shipment has arrived!” Tutu yelled, startling Tigger, who hissed and chittered.
“Coming,” I hollered back. I glanced at my lizard, hating to leave it alone now that we were almost bonding. “Want to come with me to work?” I’d just be unpacking the obsidian and placing some of it in the kiln.
I dangled the harness and leash in front of the tank. Its gaze narrowed, almost as if it understood what I planned.
“It will be fine. You’ll see. The harness won’t hurt, and this way, you get some time outside the cage,” I crooned as I lifted the lid and brought the straps near. Tigger didn’t move, merely stared and shook its head. So cute.
“It’s not a big deal. Dogs have to wear them every time they go out.
” I kept my tone low and calming as I fitted the straps over Tigger’s head and got it to cooperate enough that its arms ended up in the right spot.
I then clipped the leash to the ring on the back before scooping up my new lizard and cradling it to my chest.
It sighed heavily but didn’t struggle or attempt to leap from my arms. “That’s a good lizard. Off to work we go.”
As I exited the house, I noticed the pickup truck parked in front of the hangar.
Tutu stood watching as two men unloaded a pair of crates and carried them inside.
I placed Tigger on my shoulder and clipped the leash to my belt loop before striding in after them.
Soon as we entered, my lizard tucked against my neck—still not biting.
Good thing, because can you imagine the headline if it tore open my jugular?
Mouse-sized lizard murders dumb woman who should have listened to her grandfather.