"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??
