Over the years, I think I have become less squeamish about creepy-crawlies and such.
Yesterday, Frank the Fat leapt up onto my wardrobe and tried to flick a lizard off the ceiling. Leapin’ Lizard was too quick for The Fat One and got away relatively unscathed. However, His Royal Fatness managed to detach Leapin’ Lizard’s tail and it was left writhing on the bedroom floor. With my catlike reflexes, I grabbed Fatboy and his partner in crime The Tigs, one cat under each arm, and threw them out of the room because I didn’t want them to chase the still squirming tail around. It is just bad manners. One should not play with his food. With the predators out of the way, I took some tissue paper and picked up the tail which was still happily flapping with much vigour. I could feel it twitch between my fingers. I looked at Leapin’ Lizard sans tail and told him, “Poor chap! At least you still have the most of your body and dignity.”
I flushed the rest of his dignity away.
1 comment:
You are ever so brave! I'd have just called someone (I'd even beg the zhong guo ren neighbours if no one was left) to come over and clear the writhing tail. Yikes!
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