Fat Lizard

An open letter to the fat lizard that is living on my patio

Fat, curly-tailed lizard living on my screened-in patio:

Why do you torment me so? Why do you stare at me through the glass of the sliding door, nay, glare at me, nay, mock me, daring me to come after you? I am used to the little geckos that roam suburban South Florida, but you are different. You are bigger, fatter, curlier of tail. You are an invader! And you have taken over the patio, skittering like a reptilian flash of light into the safety of the bottom track of the hurricane shutters whenever we try to come near you. Surely, you have set up a rather cozy camp in there, probably hosting all sorts of fat lizard raves, laughing at the people who live in the house, not caring in the least that you've caused conversations like this to occur between my husband and me:

Ricky: I've set up a blockade.

Me: What do you mean?

Ricky: I put a piece of broken cement on each side of the track, blocking the two openings.

Me: You mean to keep it out of there?

Ricky: No, I saw it go in there. It's trapped!

Me: But it'll die in there!

Ricky: We want it to die. (Ricky gets look of confusion.) Don't we?

Me: (I get look of confusion.)

Ricky: But it makes big doodies all over the patio. You don't want doodies all over the patio.

Me: No. (Still looking conflicted.) Maybe we can write to The Ethicist in The New York Times Magazine.

Ricky: It eats the bugs, right?

Me: Yes! It eats the bugs. (Ignoring the fact that the patio is screened-in, so there aren't really any bugs.)

Ricky: So, you don't want it to die in there?

Me: I don't want it to die in there.

Ricky: (Goes back out and removes the blockade.)

So, fat lizard living on my patio, I hope you're happy with yourself.