We lizard-wrangled this evening.
When Gaston opened the bedroom window, a beautiful little green lizard sprang onto the sill and dropped onto the floor from where it had worked its way between the screen and the window casement.
A great deal of banging, dragging of furniture over the floor, and swearing alerted me.
“Anything the matter?”
“Hey! Is something wrong?”
“I’m trying to catch a lizard.”
Quick little critters. Four hands, four feet, two heads were required to corner it. I thought I had trapped it behind the dresser with a box, but got only the tail.
“Quick! Grab it.”
By the time Gaston shifted the dresser, the valiant reptile had dropped its tail and fled into the corner.
We eventually cornered it between Gaston’s feet and my hands.
Meanwhile, its tail continued twitching and writhing, sans owner, in the box for a good five minutes.
“Gross. Poor little guy!”