About this time of the year back in Iowa City, something unwanted would make itself known. Perhaps it would be the movement out of the corner of her eye; perhaps the subtle sound of movements; perhaps--although she'd be loath to admit to such preternatural powers--she could smell it. But one way or another, Iowa Guru would discover a mouse, or several, had invaded out house. The order would go out with no delay or ambiguity: terminate with extreme prejudice. Then I, as Lord High Executioner, would swing into action by deploying the most archaic mousetraps that I could find (since they work best), and each of the beasts would be hunted down and eliminated. The Guru could rest easy.
We do not have mice in India, at least so far.
But we do have Gordon.
A couple of weeks ago, while sitting quietly in our apartment for the evening, I heard the "Steve" come out of the Guru's mouth with that tone of loathsome panic normally reserved for rodents or dogs (the Guru finds little difference between them initially, although she'll make peace with some--dogs). I looked over and followed her gaze to the ceiling and there, very near the junction of the top of the wall and the ceiling, was a gecko. Quite frankly, not having any real acquainatance with any such creature outside of the one that hawks insurance on TV (and whom I do not consider a representative of his species, his cleverness notwithstanding, I did not know how to respond.
Whatever puzzlement I held, the Guru had none, and order went out to terminate with extreme prejudice. And, ever mindful of my duty to defend the family realm, I armed myself with a rolled up magazine to go make done with the loathsome creature. I moved in like a stealthy cat, all crouched and ready to pounce. Alas, this proved ineffective as my target was located very near the ceiling & crouching took me in entirely the wrong direction. Realizing the error of my tactic, I arose to my full grizzly stature with the idea that like the fearsome hulk whom I (attempted) to imitate. I, too, I imagined that I possessed an unfathomable quickness such that the apparent insouciance that the creature held toward my superior size would disappear with its life. I pounced.
It turns out the geckos are quick, very quick. I swung and missed, gave chase, swung and missed again, and hurling myself forward again, I swung and missed. I was at this point, owing to my All-American upbringing, thinking that I was required by the rules to quit and turn the bat (magazine) over to the Guru. She thought differently. However, by this time the endeavor had become moot, as the creature had disappeared into our closet and was presumably hiding among our clothes. You see, unlike mice, geckos have the additional advantage of being able to climb the walls--and I'm not speaking metaphorically, either. This is no small measure of advantage and rather unfair and unsportsmanlike, but nature holds no such scruples. I have not mastered this skill and have only seen it accomplished in the movies. Alas, none of the those persons were currently available in Jaipur. (Perhaps in Bollywood, but we haven't any connections there yet.) We were at an impasse.
A state of high alert remained in effect, and our silent specter would emerge from time to time to be seen reposing near the top of the wall. I continued to offer perfunctory and utterly futile chase, and the Guru continued to issue the order, but with the passage of time, our mindsets began to change.
The creature did not seem to eat our food, it did not leave poop that we'd find, and it did not pop out of places to scare us. It would simply appear from time to time mocking our pretensions to mastery of our abode.
Come to think of it, we'd never had a pet before.
As I write this, Gordon is there above me. ("Gordon" Gecko seemed better than "Geico" and, one hopes, avoids potential legal entanglements about naming rights, product placement issues, and so on). Gordon looks down upon me (maybe, who knows with those funky eyes he has), still has a statute, quietly observing. What mischief is he planning? We mortals cannot say. Fortunately, unlike his namesake, he has no vile vices of avarice or envy that we can identify; oh, perhaps some pride of accomplishment, which we can forgive. He seems a rather content creature. And, I dare say, quite at home.
We do not have mice in India, at least so far.
But we do have Gordon.
A couple of weeks ago, while sitting quietly in our apartment for the evening, I heard the "Steve" come out of the Guru's mouth with that tone of loathsome panic normally reserved for rodents or dogs (the Guru finds little difference between them initially, although she'll make peace with some--dogs). I looked over and followed her gaze to the ceiling and there, very near the junction of the top of the wall and the ceiling, was a gecko. Quite frankly, not having any real acquainatance with any such creature outside of the one that hawks insurance on TV (and whom I do not consider a representative of his species, his cleverness notwithstanding, I did not know how to respond.
Whatever puzzlement I held, the Guru had none, and order went out to terminate with extreme prejudice. And, ever mindful of my duty to defend the family realm, I armed myself with a rolled up magazine to go make done with the loathsome creature. I moved in like a stealthy cat, all crouched and ready to pounce. Alas, this proved ineffective as my target was located very near the ceiling & crouching took me in entirely the wrong direction. Realizing the error of my tactic, I arose to my full grizzly stature with the idea that like the fearsome hulk whom I (attempted) to imitate. I, too, I imagined that I possessed an unfathomable quickness such that the apparent insouciance that the creature held toward my superior size would disappear with its life. I pounced.
It turns out the geckos are quick, very quick. I swung and missed, gave chase, swung and missed again, and hurling myself forward again, I swung and missed. I was at this point, owing to my All-American upbringing, thinking that I was required by the rules to quit and turn the bat (magazine) over to the Guru. She thought differently. However, by this time the endeavor had become moot, as the creature had disappeared into our closet and was presumably hiding among our clothes. You see, unlike mice, geckos have the additional advantage of being able to climb the walls--and I'm not speaking metaphorically, either. This is no small measure of advantage and rather unfair and unsportsmanlike, but nature holds no such scruples. I have not mastered this skill and have only seen it accomplished in the movies. Alas, none of the those persons were currently available in Jaipur. (Perhaps in Bollywood, but we haven't any connections there yet.) We were at an impasse.
A state of high alert remained in effect, and our silent specter would emerge from time to time to be seen reposing near the top of the wall. I continued to offer perfunctory and utterly futile chase, and the Guru continued to issue the order, but with the passage of time, our mindsets began to change.
The creature did not seem to eat our food, it did not leave poop that we'd find, and it did not pop out of places to scare us. It would simply appear from time to time mocking our pretensions to mastery of our abode.
Come to think of it, we'd never had a pet before.
As I write this, Gordon is there above me. ("Gordon" Gecko seemed better than "Geico" and, one hopes, avoids potential legal entanglements about naming rights, product placement issues, and so on). Gordon looks down upon me (maybe, who knows with those funky eyes he has), still has a statute, quietly observing. What mischief is he planning? We mortals cannot say. Fortunately, unlike his namesake, he has no vile vices of avarice or envy that we can identify; oh, perhaps some pride of accomplishment, which we can forgive. He seems a rather content creature. And, I dare say, quite at home.
 | |
| Gordon photo by Iowa Guru |
Upon reviewing this blog, Iowa Guru protested that she held no malice aforethought toward garden & that her only proposed recourse was eviction.
ReplyDeleteAs I must admit to some Irish ancestry, & having frequented the company of those with the gift of (enhanced) gab, perhaps there's a wee bit o' exaggeration in my account. So be it. let's not get all literal minded, shall we?
Damned spell checker! That's "Gordon" not "garden" (she's all soft on gardens!).
ReplyDelete