“EEEEEKKKKKKK! THERE’S A LIZARD IN THE HOUSE,” The Wife screamed, which was followed by a dash out the front door with such speed it would make the Flash envious. Knowing she would never return unless the cold-blooded houseguest was removed, I figured it was my husbandly duty to catch it.

I spotted the lizard in a corner, hiding behind a stack of books. About an inch and half long. It couldn’t have weighed more than a nickel. How the wife spotted it was beyond me, but she has a knack for that sorta thing. We can be watching TV and she’ll somehow spot a spider in 12 feet away directly behind her.

Being a city boy, I’m not exactly versed in the capture of live animals. Sure, as a boy I would pick up worms off the sidewalk and chase girls around the playground–but they were there for the taking: catching a live animal would be a whole ‘nother challenge. I saw no need to kill the lizard. If I could somehow grab it, I would put it in a jar and take it outside. At least that was the plan. Unfortunately, the reptile seemed to disagree and didn’t want . . . . .