"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??
