brb moving back across the country
There's a little green lizard in my bathroom window.
Seriously.
A lizard.
We're on the second floor... And our place just got bug bombed a few weeks ago (not that it really matters because invasive species are freaking invasive)... But that is all slightly less important than the fact that it's like 6:30 am and there's a lizard in my bathroom...
Kinda stumped on this one.
[copypasta from DevArt because I can not be clever twice... or once...]
And really that's just kind of... I'm moving back North. As soon as I'm done with school. I don't really know why this is the deal breaker for me, but it just kind of is. Because I clearly have no acclimated enough to all the horrendously invasive critters in Savannah to the point that a lizard in my bathroom fries my concept of reality. I don't see Savannah, Georgia as a particularly exotic place and it's clearly doing everything within it's power to prove me wrong, because holy freaking shit, there's a freaking LIZARD in my bathroom!
I mean a bird? A chipmunk? I could totally deal with that. I grew up with cats. I vividly remember the time our tabby brought in a still very much alive chipmunk and DROPPED IT.
What ensued was a actually kind of funny at the time situation of biology in action! I mean I knew chipmunks could collapse their anatomy to slip under tiny tiny tiny spaces, but I was NOT aware that they were tiny enough to slip under barely-an-inch openings in my parents closet.
And really my parents have entierly too many things in their closet that comes with some 30 odd years of marriage, although it's all neatly packaged up, that really doesn't do you much good when there's a chipmunk loose in it. My mom, the intrepid biologist, ended up being the one to go through all the boots and tennis shoes trying to find the freaking chipmunk while my dad, my little bro and me (aka the peanut gallery) guarded the gap to assure that the furry fiend did not escape.
The closet is actually fairly big, sort of a walk in jobby, so Mom was able to close the door behind her when she went in for her search and later when she finally cornered the bugger, we brought in the tabby to reclaim her catch. ...Problem is... the tabby is psychotic and prissy as fuck for a barely reformed feral cat so instead of swooping down on her horrified prey to dole out a horrendous and bloody end, the tabby gives Mom A Look.
A "...No. You made me drop it. YOU go get it." look.
Either this is a product of being raised around Forest Service employees or I just have incredibly eloquent animals...
That failed, the tabby is ejected from the closet (and THAT was a fun if not one sided conversation to listen to) and we brought in back up: the tomcat. He's a formidibale predator. He killed just about the only mole in the entierty of Central Oregon, we do not doubt his hunting prowess.* Of course... we also forgot that he's a cat. He apparently got the look that said "OH! They got me a toy! That's grand, thanks!" and proceeded to play with the misortunate chipmunk.
Hearing my mother shout "Will you just KILL IT ALREADY?!" from inside of a shut closet really shouldn't be that funny, but given the situation? Hilarious.
But that's just the kind of crap I grew up around. We were a bit scarce on Odd Encounters of the Lizardy Sort MOSTLY because tha cats probably ate all the ones they caught and the rest were too smart to get anywhere near the house (evolution in action, ladies and gentlemen). We did have frogs under the house for a good number of years until they finally fixed the leak that was down there. Kinda sucked, but we were older by then and not as interested in catching frogs and raising tadpoles.
.....Well okay, that's a bald ass lie, but it was easier to connvince ourselves that we weren't as interested in catching frogs and raising tadpoles.
Man... I get homesick a weird times...
I suppose I'll figure out what the heck to do with him (if he's in the same place) after the roomies wake up and I get some food in me. ...Noooot necessarily in that order. And probably some sleep somewhere in there. Probably.
*Though the tabby is the better hunter. Yes, taking out a mole is incredibly impressive (especially since we don't know where the hell it came from), but the tabby took down a full grown jack rabbit and then dragged it through the back yard on her way to dispose of the body. The tabby is a little thing that barely clears five pounds. We do not question the mighty hunting skills of the tabby, even if she is a priss.
Seriously.
A lizard.
We're on the second floor... And our place just got bug bombed a few weeks ago (not that it really matters because invasive species are freaking invasive)... But that is all slightly less important than the fact that it's like 6:30 am and there's a lizard in my bathroom...
Kinda stumped on this one.
[copypasta from DevArt because I can not be clever twice... or once...]
And really that's just kind of... I'm moving back North. As soon as I'm done with school. I don't really know why this is the deal breaker for me, but it just kind of is. Because I clearly have no acclimated enough to all the horrendously invasive critters in Savannah to the point that a lizard in my bathroom fries my concept of reality. I don't see Savannah, Georgia as a particularly exotic place and it's clearly doing everything within it's power to prove me wrong, because holy freaking shit, there's a freaking LIZARD in my bathroom!
I mean a bird? A chipmunk? I could totally deal with that. I grew up with cats. I vividly remember the time our tabby brought in a still very much alive chipmunk and DROPPED IT.
What ensued was a actually kind of funny at the time situation of biology in action! I mean I knew chipmunks could collapse their anatomy to slip under tiny tiny tiny spaces, but I was NOT aware that they were tiny enough to slip under barely-an-inch openings in my parents closet.
And really my parents have entierly too many things in their closet that comes with some 30 odd years of marriage, although it's all neatly packaged up, that really doesn't do you much good when there's a chipmunk loose in it. My mom, the intrepid biologist, ended up being the one to go through all the boots and tennis shoes trying to find the freaking chipmunk while my dad, my little bro and me (aka the peanut gallery) guarded the gap to assure that the furry fiend did not escape.
The closet is actually fairly big, sort of a walk in jobby, so Mom was able to close the door behind her when she went in for her search and later when she finally cornered the bugger, we brought in the tabby to reclaim her catch. ...Problem is... the tabby is psychotic and prissy as fuck for a barely reformed feral cat so instead of swooping down on her horrified prey to dole out a horrendous and bloody end, the tabby gives Mom A Look.
A "...No. You made me drop it. YOU go get it." look.
Either this is a product of being raised around Forest Service employees or I just have incredibly eloquent animals...
That failed, the tabby is ejected from the closet (and THAT was a fun if not one sided conversation to listen to) and we brought in back up: the tomcat. He's a formidibale predator. He killed just about the only mole in the entierty of Central Oregon, we do not doubt his hunting prowess.* Of course... we also forgot that he's a cat. He apparently got the look that said "OH! They got me a toy! That's grand, thanks!" and proceeded to play with the misortunate chipmunk.
Hearing my mother shout "Will you just KILL IT ALREADY?!" from inside of a shut closet really shouldn't be that funny, but given the situation? Hilarious.
But that's just the kind of crap I grew up around. We were a bit scarce on Odd Encounters of the Lizardy Sort MOSTLY because tha cats probably ate all the ones they caught and the rest were too smart to get anywhere near the house (evolution in action, ladies and gentlemen). We did have frogs under the house for a good number of years until they finally fixed the leak that was down there. Kinda sucked, but we were older by then and not as interested in catching frogs and raising tadpoles.
.....Well okay, that's a bald ass lie, but it was easier to connvince ourselves that we weren't as interested in catching frogs and raising tadpoles.
Man... I get homesick a weird times...
I suppose I'll figure out what the heck to do with him (if he's in the same place) after the roomies wake up and I get some food in me. ...Noooot necessarily in that order. And probably some sleep somewhere in there. Probably.
*Though the tabby is the better hunter. Yes, taking out a mole is incredibly impressive (especially since we don't know where the hell it came from), but the tabby took down a full grown jack rabbit and then dragged it through the back yard on her way to dispose of the body. The tabby is a little thing that barely clears five pounds. We do not question the mighty hunting skills of the tabby, even if she is a priss.