It was a calm Saturday afternoon. The church cleaning crew was busy about their work, when the quiet was shattered by a series of shrieks from the pastor's daughter.
"What is it, Naomi, what is it?"
"A gecko," she squealed, running out of the bathroom and making faces.
"Oh, I love geckos!"
I went to go see it (because of course). Meanwhile the shrieking continued (in spite of my assurances that geckos were nothing to be afraid of and that this little creature was not going to kill her), along with pleas for her brother to do something.
Joshua came in with a broom, and I was like, "No, wait, I'll take care of it." (I didn't like the thought of him killing the little guy unnecessarily, when he could easily just be taken outside.)
They were rather incredulous - disgusted, in Naomi's case - that I was actually going to touch the thing. I saw him in the corner of the bathtub next to some rags, and leaned in to scoop him up, when something else moved right next to my hand...a fat, disgusting cockroach about the same size as the gecko.
"Ick!" I cried, jumping back a few feet. "I hate those things!"
I regained my composure and again attempted to catch the gecko (who was, thankfully, now at the other end of the tub). I scooped him up, but he was obviously not impressed with the idea of being caught. He wiggled free...in two different directions. Now, I've often heard that geckos can shed their tails when they're frightened, but in all the times I've picked up geckos, I hadn't seen that happen once. I reached for him a second time (hoping he wasn't going to lose a head next, 'cause that would have really freaked me out). And a third time. Finally...
"Ha! Gotcha!"
Cupping both hands together, I walked to the back door and set him free outside. Inside, the girls' screams continued. Joshua was dangling the tail in front of their faces, because apparently that's what brothers like to do.
The gecko scurried across the courtyard. I don't know what happened to the tail...
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