|GeckoTime.com has great info & photos.|
"His skin feels like chicken flesh. Is he cold?" No, that's just his skin.
She told them that she also has another gecko, but left him in the tank because "he's the mean one." It hisses at people and doesn't like to be touched. The teacher went on to explain how it once lost a fight with a dog and was still angry about having to regrow a leg and part of its tail. I'm guessing that it probably started the fight.
Naturally, when they came home and told my other son and me about this awesome gecko, the conversation quickly got out of hand. The boys lined up and faced off against us on the scrimmage line, in a verbal game of football. The potential gecko was the figurative ball that they attempted to move down the field to the goal line of our home. They began their drive with a listing of those attributes that make geckos great pets:
They're cute. Five yard gain.
They're friendly. Incomplete pass.
They're quiet. First down.
They're easy to care for. Gain a few more yards.
They eat crickets. Interception.
Penalty called: 15 yards, offense, crickets on the field. Replay the down.
My wife doesn't get along with crickets. She had a frightening encounter with a swarm of crickets invading her yoga class in college. As she lay on the floor, her consciousness floating in the aether of peace and harmony, a cricket jumped on her face, like a face-hugger attempting to implant its egg in her stomach. To this day when she encounters a cricket, she jumps higher than it does.
In a last-ditch effort to reach the goal, the youngest rushes up the middle. "You know mom, if we got a gecko, you'd only have to take care of four pets." And he doesn't even make it back to the line of scrimmage.
"Wait a minute. WHO would be taking care of them?" Incomplete pass. "And what do you mean FOUR pets??" The defense mounts a strong line.
"Well," The center snaps the ball to the quarterback. "Yes...there's the dog, the gerbil, the gecko, and the crickets." Fumble.
But wait, the ball is recovered by the offensive team as the other son jumps in for a save. "Yeah mom. And you know what? Tarantulas eat crickets too!" And that's a sack. In their own end zone.And the ball explodes on impact.
Here's to hoping Santa doesn't show up with a box of crickets at YOUR house. He's certainly not allowed to bring any here.
Now reading: Jim Butcher's new book of short stories, Side Jobs.