My Gecko!

Lizards and horned toads are prevalent as are snakes and tarantulas. I've learned to accept them and usually am left alone. Of course, I leave them alone too!!  ;-)

I recently moved to Chandler, a community to the southeast of Phoenix.

The other day while hosing down my back patio after a dust storm, I discovered a new creature, a sort that I had not encountered before. Peeking out from a wee little separation between the wall of the house and the roof's overhang was a sly little reptile that appeared almost lizard like, but with big buggy penetrating eyes, thick bowed legs with fat toes, and a long pudgy, spindly tail.  Instead of the rough exterior like the lizard or horned toad, this slimy looking reptile had a smooth and squishy appearance that was terrifying to me!

I found out in recent months that this desert creature is called a Gecko. Each time I'd venture out to my patio, I would always look over my shoulder for this creature because it was so cunning in the way it would peek out and scope its prey from the overhang above me.

Sometimes I would find it on the wall, just above my sliding glass door and I always feared that it was about to enter my home.  Since its color was nearly the same as my carpeting, I was petrified of one day stepping on it while bare foot!.  If that doesn't send shivers up your spine  -- worse yet, I feared I would discover it slithering across my bed while I slept!

Last night as I stepped outside to feed my dog, I encountered that creature again.  QuIcK tHiNkInG as always when sCaReD hAlF oUt oF mY wItS, I calculatingly slammed the sliding glass door shut so that deranged reptile could not enter my house!  As I did, the gecko scattered mightily past my feet and out into the yard.  "Ohmigosh, I almost squished that gecko right into the door," I thought to myself as I breathed a sigh of relief. I imagined the gushy mess that a squished gecko would have made and the nauseating chore the clean up would have been...

A few minutes later, my beau came outside to advise me of a phone call I had missed.  I told him about the gecko that got away.  He quizzically examined the door jamb and said, "Hmmmmm, well, what's this then?" He reached into his pocket for a pen to coax the moving object from the the door jamb.  After he tossed the slimy sliver onto the patio, we both jumped back and stared astonishingly at one another.  Wiggling its way across my patio was the tail (sans gecko) that I had squished when I slammed the door shut!

"Gotcha, Gecko!" I thought to my spiteful little self without the slightest pang of guilt.  A moment later, having regained my sensible composure, I stood there, hair standing on end as I envisioned a future scenario...

By now, they've all gathered together, reproduced in my attic and formed an army of squashy varmints that will descend upon me at my next exit from the house.  Folks, this will be no ordinary "tail gait" party as they march in unison, chanting, "Hell no, we won't go!  Return our tails; we'll let you go!!"

Sheesh!  What's the big deal -- don't their tails grow back again anyway??

I'll show them!  See if I use that door again!

Background courtesy of Bruce Hale, cartoonist and children's book author, residing in Hawaii. "Moki the Gecko", copyright 1989 by Bruce Hale.  Please honor Bruce Hale by visiting his site, complete with Moki the Gecko comic strip!