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 G~d'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!
Moral of the
story: Pay attention in biology class.
Lizards lay eggs!
Each station has their own twitter and Facebook accounts and some reporters have their own twitter and Facebook accounts as well, but some news outlets are using the social media sites better than others.
Before discussing the 
