We don’t often see geckos in January, but the little creatures must know instinctively what I have to go to Weather.com to find out: that it was cool, but not cold, and rainy all day, and as such it’s a lovely night for traipsing across the brick walls of my house in search of…whatever it is small reptiles and amphibians go in search of.
Thankfully, Miss Cleo didn’t see the gecko on the wall when I took her outside for “last call,” just a few moments ago, or she’d still be out there barking at it. Miss Cleo thinks geckos are a personal affront to her, encroaching upon her territory as they do. Miss Cleo is wrong, but you can’t always reason with a cocker/poodle/chi/staffy/thing. She saw a rodent climbing the fence and raced after it, but came back almost immediately, probably because it’s late and we’re all tired from weird sleep patterns.
I’m writing insurance content all this week, and it has me both bored silly and having odd connections. For example, a piece on term life insurance and death benefits made me remember the last few chapters of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.
I think I will try to sleep now.
Aren’t geckos delish? At least my cats suspect they might be. Which is why I will not allow my son to have one as a pet.
Tag, you’re it. The choice is yours.
Did the gecko try to sell you some auto insurance?