Page 4 of Training my Human

Little fella protested when I shifted him to get out of bed, making a growling, protesting noise.

“Calm down. You can stay there if you want, but some of us need to work and pay the bills,” I grumbled.

My dumb ass then proceeded to tuck my blanket around it. Dumb because who left a wild animal in their home while they went to work? I’d probably return to everything chewed to shit and lizard poop and pee stinking up the place, but call me a softie, I didn’t have the heart to toss him outside.

I made myself coffee and slathered butter on an everything bagel—stale since I’d forgotten I had it in the breadbox. Since I had two, I also toasted an extra for the little fella and left it on a plate on the floor because I just knew he’d be hungry when he got up. I also put down some paper towels by the door. Could you piddle pad train a lizard? Guess we’d see.

With my goggles over my eyes and wearing my leather pants, jacket, and shit kickers, I headed into work on my motorcycle, my platinum hair streaming. No, I didn’t wear a helmet. Yes, that was against the law. Did I care? Not really. I had a friend who survived a motorcycle accident because he wore a lid. Ended up a quadriplegic. I admired his resiliency in dealing with his disability even as I knew I’d lack the same fortitude. Hence why I took chances.

The road had more traffic than usual heading away from the city. Despite the evacuation and trauma of the nearby exploding volcano, Terrace had never been busier. Crazy ass folks came in from all over, wanting to see the lava rivulets up close. It led to more walk-ins at our shop than normal, which ended up being good for me since my appointment had to cancel, changing his mind about wanting his girlfriend’s face on his back since he caught her cheating with his sister. Sounded like a Jerry Springer special to me.

When I got a break in people wanting on-the-spot mini tattoos memorializing their visit—most opting for volcanoes, with one client having me make the spewing rocks into hearts—I popped out to run an errand. If Little Fella was going to be sticking around, I should probably invest in some lizard-appropriate food. Didn’t they eat like insects and stuff? Sure, it scarfed down a steak and loved ice cream, but that likely was not healthy. Not to mention, I couldn’t afford to feed it thirty dollar steaks every day. Given its carnivorous proclivity, I wondered what kind of lizard I’d found. An internet search of local wildlife didn’t show anything resembling my little fella.

Luckily for me, the pet store up the street, Leaping Lizards, specialized in reptiles. I walked in and wrinkled my nose. The place stank of animal, most likely because of the many glass aquariums featuring a variety of scaly critters. I browsed the many available species: geckos, bearded dragons, snakes. None looked like my friend at home.

“Can I help you?”

The deep voice had me whirling and looking up. Way up. A barrel-chested giant with arms possibly as wide as my waist stood behind me, wearing plaid and jeans. A bearded lumberjack with a nametag that said Maddox.

“Hey, there. So weird thing, I found a lizard at my place and was looking for something to feed him.”

He arched a brow. “Chances are it can feed itself. The lizards in these parts aren’t domesticable.”

“Yeah, well tell that to the little fella that insisted on coming inside my trailer and snuggled me all night long.”

That claim brought a frown to the ruggedly handsome face. It should be noted I had a thing for big, burly dudes, not that I’d dated any in a while. My last boyfriend, a biker I’d met while tattooing him, turned out to be a dick who stole all the cash from my cookie jar and fled town when the cops came looking for him about some stolen catalytic converters. What could I say, I knew how to pick them.

“Do you know what species you found?”

I shook my head. “Nah, and Google’s not being too helpful in that regard either. And before you ask, I forgot to take a pic, but he’s about this big,” I held out my hands. “Grayish skin. Lumpy back, talkative and bossy.”

“Lizards don’t talk.”

“Not in words,” I scoffed. “But definitely making noise at me. Anyhow, I’m here because I need some food and shit.”

“Kind of hard to figure out its diet without knowing the species.” Maddox pursed his lips. “But I can probably set you up with some generic stuff. Given the description, it’s most likely a Northern Alligator Lizard. They tend to like insects and stuff. Do you have a terrarium?”

I snorted. “No, and I’d rather not cage it.”

“Then you run the risk of it escaping.”

The reply had me shrugging. “Which would be its choice. I’m not even sure it will be there when I get back.”

He gave me an odd look. “Exactly where do you live that lizards can come and go?”

“I’ve got a trailer outside of town. Used to belong to my granny. While it’s fairly cozy, I know for a fact it’s got holes because the mice somehow keep finding a way in.” And this despite the many traps I’d set over the years.

“In that case, there’s a strong chance it will be gone by the time you get home. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone domesticating a NAL.” He shortened the name.

“Assuming it is, what do you suggest I feed it?” I left out any mention of the steak and ice cream Little Fella scarfed down. Maddox already seemed appalled enough as it was. No need for him to lose his eyebrows completely in disbelief.

“Let me get you a few things.” The big man moved confidently around the store, and I leaned against a display watching because I just couldn’t make it fit. He looked like he should be chopping wood or fixing cars, not working in a pet store. Heck, with that ass and the biceps bulging his shirt, he would have looked good as a fireman or a stripper.

Maddox dumped an armful of shit on the counter by the register. He pointed and named each item. “Dried crickets, although I do have live ones if you find your lizard not happy about them being dead. Canned worms. They’re a little juicier so you might want to feed them to it on a towel or something washable. We’ve got some powdered vitamin to make sure it doesn’t get mineral deficient. You’ll want to make sure it’s got access to water as well. Do you need a dish?”

My lips curved as I said, “Pretty sure I’ve got enough empty margarine containers to figure something out.” Grandma didn’t believe in buying plastic receptacles but rather reused the ones she got with things like sour cream, yoghurt, and other dairy products. When one cracked or melted in the microwave, she recycled it and pulled out the next. By the time she died, she’d collected so many I had to purge but kept up the practice. After all, I’d already paid for the container, why not use it?

“This should get you started. If the lizard sticks around, pop back with a picture and we’ll confirm its species. Maybe talk you into some live insects,” he said with a naughty grin.

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