An open letter

Dear Anole,

I'm sure your day started as innocently as mine. I woke up, had my coffee, went for a run at the park with Tim and then settled in to do some stuff in preparation for tomorrow's road trip. As I was getting ready for work, you entered my day.

I had been in the living room earlier. I had noticed the blinds to the sliding doors were open, but I appreciated the natural light and didn't think twice about it. Then Tim told me that the nippers (that's what we call the cats) were outside. I looked outside, and sure enough, they were in the screened-in porch. I spotted you then. I mentioned you to Tim. I wasn't convinced the best place for the nippers to be was outside. But they seemed happy, and Tim was watching them, so I went back to getting ready.

I walked out of the bathroom 3 minutes later to Tim's cheerful call of "Mario brought you a lizard!" Yes, unsuspecting anole, it was you. I am so, so sorry I yelled so much and was so loud. However, imagine my shock. (And remember, I don't have the best track record with your kind. I had a clear view of Mario down the hallway, and I'm afraid you and I weren't properly introduced - all I saw was a tail and two legs hanging out of his mouth.

Tim kept laughing. He kept telling Mario to put you down. Mario didn't understand why I wasn't impressed. He didn't grasp that I was horrified and wanted a) you out and b) him out, but not in the same place. He just stood there, looking proud and defensive, with you dangling from his mouth.

You fell from Mario's mouth and scurried toward our bookshelf, but Mario nearly caught you again. Finally, Tim picked up a white gift bag and told me you were in it. Sadly, it was the gift bag that my engagement ring had been in before Tim gave it to me. Tim wants to keep it. I told him that it was no longer a keepsake, it's a lizard receptacle (sorry - nothing personal).

Mario never quite figured out that you weren't still in the bookshelf. He didn't realize Tim took you outside and shut the door. He sat there and meowed loudly and pathetically for a good 30 minutes, trying to draw you out. Tim said you sat in shock on the porch for quite some time. Again, my deepest apologies - I can only imagine how bad Mario's breath smells, and I would venture to guess that it's not exactly comfortable to be halfway down a cat's throat while he trots you around like a prize.

I can only hope it won't happen again. I've asked Tim to not let the cats out on the porch again. Aside from the obvious mess, Mario isn't supposed to have extra protein in his diet - he's on prescription food that eliminates the need for snacking on toads and anoles.

I've also asked that Tim brush Mario's teeth, because I really don't want to be head butted or nuzzled by a mouth that has been partaking in lizard delicacies. So far, he has protested on that point. But we'll see.

I hope you live a long, fruitful life ... far away from cats, and frankly, me.

Best wishes,
Kristin (and Tim and Mario and Sidney)