"Oh my gosh," my
husband diagnosed after a minute.
"She's having babies."
"What?" my
son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Dad!" I was equally outraged.
"Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce," I
accused my husband.
"Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in
their cage?" he
inquired.
(I actually think he said this
sarcastically!)
"No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded
him, (in my
most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth
together).
"Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed.
"Well, it's just
a little hard to tell on some guys, you know," He
informed me. (Again with
the sarcasm, you think?)
By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what
was going on.
I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it. "Kids, this is
going to
be a wondrous experience," I announced. "We're about to witness the
miracle of birth.
" OH, Gross!" they shrieked.
Well, isn't THAT
just great! What are we going to do with a litter of
tiny little lizard
babies?" my husband wanted to know. (I really do think he was being snotty here,
too, don't you?)
We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what
looked like a
tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second
later.
"We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted.
"Its
breech," my husband whispered, horrified.
"Do something, Mom!" my son
urged.
"Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when
it next appeared, giving it a gingerly tug. It disappeared. I tried several more
times with the same results.
"Should I call 911?" my eldest son wanted to
know.
"Maybe they could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern
here with the men in my house?)
"Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said
grimly. We drove to the vet with
my son holding the cage in his
lap.
"Breathe, Ernie, breathe," he urged.
"I don't think lizards
do Lamaze," his father noted to him. (Men can
be so cruel to their own
young. I mean what he does to me is one thing, but this boy is of his loins, for
God's sake.)
The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at
the
little animal through a magnifying glass.
"What do you think,
Doc, a C-section?" I suggested scientifically.
"Oh, very interesting," he
murmured. "Mr and Mrs. Cameron, may I
speak to you privately for a
moment?"
I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.
"Is Ernie
going to be okay?" my husband asked.
"Oh, perfectly," the vet assured us.
"This lizard is not in labour.
In fact, that isn't EVER going to
happen...Ernie is a boy. You see,
Ernie is a young male. And occasionally,
as they come into maturity, like most male species, they
um....um....masturbate.
Just the way he did, lying on his back. "He
blushed, glancing at my
husband. "Well, you know what I'm saying, Mrs
Cameron."
We were silent, absorbing this.
"So Ernie's
just...just...Excited," my husband offered.
"Exactly," the vet replied,
relieved that we understood. More
silence.
Then my vicious, cruel husband
started to giggle. And giggle. And
then even laugh loudly.
"What's so
funny?" I demanded knowing, but not believing that the man I married would
commit the upcoming affront to my flawless femininity.
Tears were now
running down his face.
"It's just...that...I'm picturing... you pulling
on it's...it's...teeny
little..." he gasped for more air to bellow in
laughter once more.
"That's enough," I warned.
We thanked the
Veterinarian and hurriedly bundled the lizards and our son back into the car. He
was glad everything was going to be okay.
"I know Ernie's really thankful
for what you've done, Mom," he told
me.
"Oh, you have NO idea," my husband agreed, collapsing
with laughter.
2 - Lizards - $140...
1 - Cage -
$50...
Trip to the Vet -
$30...
Memory of your wife pulling on a lizard's wacker. Priceless!!!
Doesn't anyone know lizards lay eggs??
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