This week’s innerview was another first for me. A coupla weeks ago I received a Meow Mail from Zoey Ashton, a pretty calico cat, on be-haff of her sibling, Gerald Dean-slash-Geraldine. Right away, I figured it was another fee-line, or even maybe a pooch. Zoey asked if I’d like to innerview them. She said they’d love to tell their story, an she ended her Meow Mail thusly: “I think Gerry might be the only potty-trained Bearded Dragon on the island.”
“Wait. Wha-at?” I said to myself. Out loud. A DRAGON? A POTTY-TRAINED DRAGON?
Maybe you pooches already know about Bearded Dragons, but they sure weren’t on my radar.
All I could pickshur was a jie-NOR-muss, fire-breathing monster with a jie-NOR-mous potty box. Yikes. So I Googled.
Turns out, they’re middle-size (15-20 inches) lizards, uh-RIDGE-uh-nully from Australia, where they’re called Beardies. They’re good pets cuz they’re laid back an frenly an won’t bite your face off or shoot fire at you or any other annoying behavior like that.
Since an innerview with a cat anna lizard made the Wag-an-Sniff pretty much moot, I decided a low-key approach was called for. Zoey an a frenly lady welcomed me an my assistant. “Do come in. I’m Zoey, and I,” she noted proudly, “hold dual citizenship: the U.S. an Canada. This is my Mom an Dad, Susan an Mike. They’re Gerry’s Gramma an Grampa. Gerry’s Dad, Ethan’s at school. Oh, an, just so you know, Gerry is OUT.”
At first I thought Zoey was sayin’ Gerry was on an errand or at the store. But she quickly explained that sometimes humans are a liddle un-COMF-tubble around reptiles, so they give visitors a Heads Up whenever Gerry is OUT somewhere in the house. Me an my assistant were Totally Cool Kibbles with that.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” I said.
Zoey led us into the sunny living room where, lounging on a comfy-lookin’ couch, was Gerald Dean-slash-Geraldine, a pawsome, super chill golden lizard with amazin’ patterned scales an spikey skin, spikey frills around the edges, a wide smile; red/orange ‘beard’; and cool toes with skinny black toenails. Definitely looked like a dragon, except not jie-NOR-mous or scary. I’d never seen anything like it.
“Welcome,” Gerry said in a husky voice. “I am Gerald Dean-slash-Geraldine. May I assume I am your first Bearded Dragon?”
“Yes, you are,” I said. “An may I say you are one of the most striking fellow pets I’ve ever met! Your, um, coat, is very beautiful. Or, um, hansome. Sorry,” I trailed off, realizing I didn’t know whether Gerald Dean-slash-Geraldine was a girl or a boy.
Turns out neither did Gerry, who laughed, “Unlike most everybody else, us Bearded Dragons are all the same on the outside. There are no, you know, CLOOS. I got named Gerald Dean-slash-Geraldine so I’d be ready, either way. Everyone calls me Gerry, cuz pronouns can get SO con-FUSE-ing. It doesn’t bother me. I’m just a chill kinda lizard. I love being outa my terrarium, climbin’ on the furniture, lookin’ out at the ocean, hangin’ with the famly. Well, full disclosure, when I get scared, which doesn’t happen that much, my beard turns almost black. I guess I do look kinda fuh-ROW-shus then.”
“Woof!” I said. Softly. “So, tell me about your life, how you found your famly, what you like to eat, stuff like that.”
“I was a (legally obtained) birthday present from Gramma an Grampa to my Dad, Ethan.”
With a serious expression, Gerry said: “I would like to mention, at this point, that acquisition of a Famly Pet, such as myself, should always be a Famly Decision.”
“Duly noted,” I replied.
“Anyway,” Gerry continued, “my Dad Nathan is AWESOME. And guess what? I’m going to be in The THEE-uh-ter! I have a walk-on part in Dad’s school play at St. Edward’s. It’s called ‘You Can’t Take It With You.’ The part usually goes to a dog but, no offense, they thought I’d be cooler.”
“Totally!” I agreed.
“Time for my mid-morning meal,” Gerry announced, as his Gramma set a liddle white shell down next to him, filled with unrecognizable tidbits. Then she held out a pretty pink hi-biscuit flower an Gerry daintily nibbled the petals till they were gone, then began nosing around in the shell.
“What’s that?” I inquired.
Between bites, Gerry explained, “Mealy worms, cricket pieces, vitamins an stuff. Zoey likes it, too, ’cept once she ate too much an tossed her kibbles. They’re Duh-LISH-us! Try some!”
When he saw my expression, he laughed. “Just kidding!”
You gotta love a lizard with a sense of humor.
“So, where do you sleep? Do you exercise? Any besties?”
“I sleep in my terrarium. It’s got sun lamps, anna warm rock, anna liddle cave, a bowl of water, a hammock. Anna branch where I frequently sit and watch the house.
“When I haft to Do My Duty (about every 2 or 3 days) Grampa puts my leash on me an takes me outside. I NEVER mess up the house. I learned pretty quick, ackshully. The leash helps ’em keep track of me if I go exploring in a bush or something. I LOVE swimmin’ in the bathtub, an chasing Zoey’s yarn-onna-stick. Watch.”
Gramma set Gerry on the floor, an Grampa dangled the stick. Gerry stood as up as possible and zipped across the floor to bop the yarn.
“Me an Zoey also like to chase that mysterious ‘red dot.’ Haven’t caught it yet, though. She usta be a Fuh-row-shus Huntress. A Mouser. I think the mice spread the word, cuz we don’t see ’em around here much anymore. Me an Zoey are each other’s BFFs. We’re both pretty low-key. Plus, I’m cold-blooded, an she’s warm an fluffy.”
Headin’ home, I was still excited, thinkin’ about my two newest frens, an all the cool stuff I’d learned. (An tryin’ not to think about mealy worms.) I’m positive Zoey was right about Gerry bein’ the only potty-trained Bearded Dragon on the Island. Maybe in the entire state.