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Facebook“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 to leave. Why would he? Free room and board. All the cat food he could find. If I were a lizard, I wouldn’t have wanted to leave either.
I approached the wall and moved the stack of books; the lizard quickly ran away from the corner towards a more open wall. A grave miscalculation, I thought. Now he was more exposed, making him an easier catch. When I approached him with my bare hands, he darted away with such speed it would make The Wife envious. After three more failed attempts, I realized this was going to be harder than I thought.
I tried sneaking up behind him, but it wasn’t working. I tried coming directly from above, but he saw through it. I tried shooing him with a dishrag. I threw a box over him. Despite my best efforts, the beast managed to evade all forms of capture. I grew weary and embarrassed. This tiny, dimwitted creature with a brain the size of my fingernail was somehow outsmarting me. Human. Male. White. Top of the food chain.
How does one catch a lizard, I wondered. I thought about searching Google for advice, but didn’t want to leave my foe out of sight. At that moment I heard the jingle of my cat’s collar and realized I wouldn’t have to catch the lizard. Why do the work myself when I could outsource?
“Ellgato, come here,” I said. Predictably, he ignored me and started licking himself (pretty much only time he comes to my beckoning is when he hears the snap of a canned cat food lid). I picked up the cat and placed him directly in front of the lizard, with the reptile no more than six inches from his face. Ellgato yawned and walked back over to the couch…where he started licking himself again.
I know my cat likes hunting lizards. He might be afraid of ducks (don’t ask), but he has no qualms killing lizards. There have been many mornings when I ventured outside to see a decapitated lizard beside my front door–a gift from the furball to his master. Knowing what to do with the lizard wasn’t a problem; I figured he probably just didn’t see it.
I picked up the cat again, this time he voice his objection to being moved with a rather stern meow in my direction. Again I placed him in front of the lizard. Again he seemed disinterested and returned to the couch. And the licking of himself. Clearly cat training is not an area in which I excel.
Since Plan B wasn’t going to work, I figured I’d take another shot at catching him myself. Heck, maybe I tired the lizard out with all his running back and forth along my living room wall. I decided to try something different, and extraction was no longer the priority. I was exhausted and running out of options, so I got the fly swatter out of the kitchen. It was time for this beast to leave my home.
As I slowly crept behind the lizard, I readied myself for attack. I hoped to strike swiftly, injuring the beast in order to slow it down. Maybe if I severed a leg or broke its back, I’d have a fighting chance at catching it. I cocked the flyswatter back…and attacked.
Unfortunately, I missed my target (I know this because the wall now has a permanent scuff mark from a poorly-executed fly swatter attack). The lizard darted three feet up the wall. If I didn’t know better, I could have heard laughing as he made his move. Before I had a moment to reflect upon my failures or devise a new plan of attack, I saw a ball of fur rush through the air and attack the wall. With one swipe, my cat managed to knock the lizard off the wall and on the carpet, leaving the beast without anywhere to run. Ellgato stared at the lizard, waiting for it to make a move. It went left and Ellgato batted it to the right. It went right and Ellgato batted it to the left. When I saw him take the lizard into his mouth, I knew it was all over. I left the cat alone to play with his prey* while I called The Wife and let her know we didn’t have to move. Feeling victorious and manly at the same time, I proclaimed out lizard problem over, and she was free to return home.
A good manager delegates. I realized the most efficient solution to my problem was to let someone else handle it. So maybe I wasn’t the one who actually caught the lizard. Did Steve Jobs really build my iPod? No–but that doesn’t stop him from taking credit for it. The lizard was killed under my watch; therefore, I was free to bask in the glory of his death. Try to outsmart me? Ha! Now we know who is truly in charge!
* It was much later that evening when I would find half of a lizard by the door of bedroom. I can only assume Ellgato the other half. At least I hope he did…because that’s the story The Wife is going to hear.