If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet
syndrome, including toilet flush burials for dead goldfish, the story
below will have you laughing out LOUD!
>
>
> Overview: I had to take my son's lizard to the vet. Here's what happened:
> Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was
> "something wrong" with one of the two lizards he holds prisoner in his
> room.
>
>
>
> "He's just lying there looking sick," he told me. "I'm serious, Dad .
> Can you help?"
>
>
>
> I put my best lizard-healer expression on my face and followed him
> into his bedroom. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his
> back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do.
>
>
>
> "Honey," I called, "come look at the lizard!"
>
>
>
> "Oh, my gosh!" my wife exclaimed. "She's having babies."
>
>
>
> "What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!"
>
>
>
> I was equally outraged. "Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we
> didn't want them to reproduce," I said accusingly to my wife.
>
>
>
> "Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?" she
> inquired (I think she actually said this sarcastically! ).
>
>
>
> "No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her, (in my
> most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth).
>
>
>
> "Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed .
>
>
>
> "Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know," she
> informed me (Again with the sarcasm!)
>
>
>
> By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I
> shrugged, deciding to make the best of it.
>
>
>
> "Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience," I announced. "We're
> about to witness the miracle of birth."
>
>
>
> "Oh, gross!" they shrieked.
>
>
>
> "Well, isn't THAT just great? What are we going to do with a litter of
> tiny little lizard babies?" my wife wanted to know.
>
>
>
> We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a
> tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later.
>
>
>
> "We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted.
>
>
>
> "It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified.
>
>
>
> "Do something, Dad!" my son urged.
>
>
>
> "Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it
> next appeared, giving it a gentle tug. It disappeared. I tried several
> more times with the same results.
>
>
>
> "Should I call 911?" my eldest daughter wanted to know "Maybe they
> could talk us through the trauma" (You see a pattern here with the
> females in my
> house?)
>
>
>
> "Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly. We drove to the vet with
> my son holding the cage in his lap.
>
>
>
> "Breathe, Ernie, breathe," he urged.
>
>
>
> "I don't think lizards do Lamaze," his mother noted to him. (Women can
> be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me is one
> thing, but this boy is of her womb, for God's sake.).
>
>
>
> The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little
> animal through a magnifying glass .
>
>
>
> "What do you think, Doc, a C-section?" I suggested scientifically.
>
>
>
> "Oh, very interesting, " he murmured. "Mr. And Mrs. Cameron, may I
> speak to you privately for a moment?"
>
>
>
> I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.
>
>
>
> "Is Ernie going to be okay?" my wife asked.
>
>
>
> "Oh, perfectly," the vet assured us. "This lizard is not in labor. In
> fact, that isn't EVER going to happen . . . Ernie is a boy. You see,
> Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity,
> like most male species, they um . . . Um . Masturbate. Just the way he
> did, lying on his back." He blushed, glancing at my wife.
>
>
>
> We were silent, absorbing this. "So, Ernie's just . . . Just ...
>
>
>
> Excited," my wife offered. "Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that
> we understood.
>
>
>
> More silence. Then my vicious, cruel wife started to giggle. And giggle.
> And then even laugh loudly.
>
>
>
> "What's so funny?" I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the
> woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness.
>
>
>
> Tears were now running down her face. "It's just . . . That . . I'm
> picturing you pulling on its . its . . teeny little . ." She gasped
> for more air to bellow in laughter once more.
>
>
>
> "That's enough," I warned. We thanked the vet and hurriedly bundled
> the lizard and our son back into the car. He was glad everything was
> going to be okay.
>
>
>
> "I know Ernie's really thankful for what you did, Dad," he told me.
>
>
>
> "Oh, you have NO idea," my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.
>
>
>
> Two lizards: $140.
>
>
> One cage: $50.
>
>
> Trip to the vet: $30.
>
>
>
> Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard's winkie: Priceless