Rotation

It happened last night. Claire and I came home from the pub last night, which is probably the most British thing I ever said. And that's when we realized we were down one lizard. Earl Grey is no more.

I remember writing about his condition a few months back, because I noticed the weight loss. He was still active, he still ate, but he kept fading away until he was nothing but skin and bones. Old bearded dragons don't always have the decency to get it over with. They deteriorate in slow motion, dying just a tiny bit each day. It's the kind of depressing crap that makes me want to stop giving unwanted lizards a home.

Earl Grey was the most miserable little beardie I've ever seen. On a good day he'd inflate and puff up at people, run and hide and freak the fuck out when you tried to touch him. He'd calm down after a while, but he was constantly scared and jumpy. I really don't know what his previous owner(s) must have done to him, but it probably wasn't very nice.

And that's just it. He sat there at the shop all day, tiny, angry, malnourished and attacking the glass if anyone got too close to him. Nobody wanted him so I kept talking to Claire until she'd finally let me have him. He always hated me. Puffed up at me the moment I came anywhere near him. I could feed him and pick him up, but he'd always need a lot of convincing beforehand.

I think he tolerated his cagemate, Nomnom. He'd sleep on top of her for some reason. If anyone got anywhere near her, he'd rush out of his cave and try to scare you off. It was weird. Like some aging cavalier watching over his lady friend. They never had babies and I assume Earl was simply too old for that kinda crap, but he protected her and he always stayed by her side.

Bearded dragons are to lizards what chickens are to birds. They're dumb. They don't learn any tricks. You put them somewhere and they just stay there and stare at you. You can put one on your head if you want and it'll just stay there. It might crap on you, but other than that it'll just sit there and put up with your shit. That's what beardies do. That's why they're such popular pets around here. They don't mind being picked up. They don't mind if you take them places. They just sit and look at stuff all day. I like them.

Somebody bought this adorable little guy one day, probably as a toy. For entertainment. They managed to turn a social, friendly animal into a nervous wreck, that would always choose to flee or to fight for its life whenever it saw a human being. And then they brought him back when he was little more than a scaly skeleton. And nobody bought him. Because he was broken. Unwanted. So we picked him up, fed him, bathed him, looked after him for a year until he died. It's probably a bit stupid to get so attached to a pet that never even liked me, but I really don't think I want any more beardies from now on. I'm tired of putting dead animals into the ground.
But they'll keep coming. One day another random person will bring a snake, a turtle, a lizard, some unwanted, unloved pet to the shop. And he's gonna sit there and rot and nobody will pick him up. Great.

Life isn't fair. Life doesn't give a fuck about justice. I get that. But some of us are fortunate to have a fucking choice. Some of us get to choose how we want to make everyone in our lives, coworkers, family, pets, everyone, feel. You can go through life as a bully and make everyone around you feel like shit. You can try and make everyone a little happier, make them feel loved. And that applies to pets, too. They aren't toys. They don't exist for your entertainment. They never asked to be born and bred to be pets. You don't have to spoil them. But don't treat them like crap. Because morons like me get to pick up the pieces and then we end up burying them for you. Because you never gave a shit.

-Cat