Monsieur Badass has developed an annoying habit of treating it like a game of hide-and-seek when he’s sunning himself while simultaneously hiding from the crows by hiding under the tires of the car.
This is not Monsieur Badass but a different lizard. Still, you get the idea. M. Badass tends to be way, WAY in there in the shadow and it’s tough to get a decent picture of him there.
It’s COVID’s fault. For the past fifteen months these cars have only been driven twice a week, sometimes only once. To this generation of Household Fence Lizards, these are permanent objects.
But now that I’m going out several times a week, they have to either be shoo’d away from instant death by squishing flatter than a pancake, or they have to be squished to death (see, “flatter than a pancake” reference).
The guy shown in the picture and the other Doctor Lizardo clan are as skittish as normal lizards are, so if you walk to the care and look at them funny they’re scurrying for the bushes and rocks. No worries.
But Monsieur Badass is different! He’s started to turn it into a game.
First of all, he doesn’t run away when you approach. He’ll actually wait until I get to the car, bend over, and poke my finger or some paperwork at him.
Then, if he’s behind the rear tire, he’ll run around to the front side of the rear tire, which only means that he’ll get squished by the front tire.
So I poke at him again and he’ll run back around the backside of the rear tire. Poke again and he’ll go over to the left side rear tire. Poke again and he’ll go up behind one of the front tires…
This can go on for several minutes, especially when it’s HOT out there. He loves it! Me? Not so much.
Yesterday I thought that I had killed him. We did this whole dance, I knelt down on the scorching driveway to peek under the car, and it looked like “all clear!”
Just to make sure to scare him off if he was hiding I turn on the car, let it idle a minute (as well as get the air conditioning going on full), then put it into reverse and rock the car just a skosh a couple of times, let it roll back just a smidgen, and then finally back up slowly. I mean, jeez Louise! How much warning does he need?!
But then when I got down to the bottom of the driveway and was ready to back out into the street, I looked back up into the driveway and saw him sitting there, right where he would have been underneath the car as it backed up. From that distance I couldn’t tell if I had squished him or if he had been in the middle between the tires and I had backed right over him. He was gone when I got home a couple hours later and was back out there this morning, so it looks like he’s not only a Badass, but a Daredevil.
I want to think that he’s figured this out and he’s only moving as much as he needs to. Then I remember that his brain is like 1% the size of the head of a pin and the only three thoughts it’s capable of are “eat,” “lizard sex,” and “RUN!!”
Long live Monsieur Badass! Or, at least, if he gets squished as I’m backing out, let some crow haul off the carcass before I get back so that I can carry on in blissful ignorance!