And In the End

And now the time has come
And, my love, I must go
And though I lose a friend
In the end you will know, oh

One day you'll find
That I have gone
But tomorrow may rain,
so I'll follow the sun

When I first spied the small intruder two months ago, she was clinging to the drapes, blending her colors like an experienced painter-of-canvas, making excellent use of dna leftover from prehistoric ancestors. Quick she was, too, faster than a mere human could mimic. So I shrugged my shoulders and turned my back, relinquishing the little lizard to the confines of our bedroom.

Winter was coming on and the arrangement might work out well - let the spiders beware, I had engaged the use of a cannibalistic reptilian bouncer. Never been a fan of sweeping cobwebs from ceiling corners. I figured no spiders=no webs. Sweet deal.

Time passed and I occasionally glimpsed a wisp of movement behind the dresser or between pairs of shoes; a long tail giving away the hidey place unbeknownst to its owner.

On Friday night, our predator of pests was in full sight, lying between my side of the bed and the dresser. She made no move to run when I climbed into bed, though I did choose my steps carefully in order to avoid a squish.

Saturday morning she was still in plain sight; her little body thin and gaunt. The weather had turned for the better, and the sun was shining warm and radiant. I cajoled the Kman to scoop our boarder up and deposit her on a nice sun-warmed stone in our front flowerbed. Little thing made no effort to run; when placed on the rock she seemed to settle in and splayed her tiny front toes out in anole pleasure.

Kman and I watched her for a bit, then climbed into the jeep for a quick trip to the grocery store. Sitting in the car, we discussed how happy Ms. Lizard surely was to be in the sun. We glanced back to the rock where she still lay soaking up all those rays.

Suddenly a small shadow appeared on the sidewalk. In a sudden swoop, a mockingbird flew straight to the sunning lizard and in one quick beak grasp swallowed most of the skinny little body with only the tail and one leg hanging out like a strand of loose spaghetti.

I was aghast; Kman was open-mouthed for a second, and then we turned to each other in hilarity. (Yes, we both have a wicked sense of humor. )

Cue the commercial, Marlin:

"Just as Mother Nature provides for her feathered children, you can protect your family with Mutual of Omaha..."