Jul. 20, 2006 - The Lizard's Lament

Tonight while doing the dishes I merrily washed a 3 inch long custard coloured gecko.  At first I thought he was an extraordinarily long and stubborn strand of grated cheese which was stuck in the cheese grater.  But nooooooo.  He swam galantly to the fore once removed from the grater and bobbed in and out of my washing up brush bristles as they swished him back and forth on a child's plate.  It was when he rose out of the suds to ascend the safe ground of my wrist that I screeched (demurely of course) and ran out of the kitchen, having shaken his warm, half dead little weight off my hand back into the water.  DH was most alarmed.  He leapt to my aid but had no idea what in the world was wrong with me.  I had a hand towel found draped over the back of a dining room chair stuffed into my mouth and my toes had curled under and I was gasping and gagging and hopping.  Finally I managed to stutter "L-l-l-lizard" and he propelled me to the couch where I curled up and cried with a cushion clutched in my arms and the touch-memory of the feet of the creature on my skin.  He spent a few minutes searching our sinkful of dishes before he fished out the very drowned little body and sent it down the rubbish shute.  He is now re-washing all our dishes in silence as I sit here, shuddering occasionally, typing my woes. 

I am missing my too-cold-for-reptile-habitat kitchens, memories of how I used to pour dishwashing powder into that glorious little square hole and press that heavenly little "BEEP" to hear the gentle hum and swish of water as the divine machine gurgles happily over your dirty dishes (and any small naughty animals). 

I know I should be hardened after my childhood on a farm in Zimbabwe, but it freaked me out as much then as it does now.  What a pathetic equatorial pioneer I would have made.