I don’t know about you, but I prefer my lizards, otherwise known as chameleons, outside in their natural environment. My living room does not qualify. They are small, true, and should not cause me to hyperventilate when discovered inside.

Generally hairspray suffices for all manner of bugs and spiders. Well, if it works for bugs, then why not lizards? Spray that stuff on those suckers and it makes them momentarily powerless. Mean, I’m not. My goal; to get them out of the house. No harm. No foul. Let them and me get back to business. Here’s a tidbit you might not know about the power of lizards.

Once, when I spotted a good-sized one on my fireplace, I initially tried to suck it up with my vacuum hose. I had read about this and it seemed an amazing way to go. Take the vacuum outside where the critter can escape at its own leisure. Keep in mind a friend was over, who was just as petrified of them as I was. This was a team effort. After the vacuum attempt failed, because I feared the lizard would pounce on me, I resorted to hairspray. One shot. Two shots. Nothing. He reared his head but nary made a move. On the third shot, the story turned. The lizard fell to the floor, his bubblegum pink dewlap flaring, transforming him into the prehistoric creature he truly was. Picture a lizard, no longer than your hand, standing up and charging you on its hind legs! Did you know they could do this? I assure you, we did not. There was ear piercing screaming and somehow my friend got the front door open while I cowered on the stairs. The lizard eventually ran out, cursing. At least I imagined he was. Here’s a tip: never use hairspray on a lizard. They don’t take kindly to it. Lesson learned.

This weekend we were in Utopia, Texas. What’s that got to do with lizards? Plenty apparently. Anticipating an afternoon cup of coffee, I was happily washing my hands at the kitchen sink. Washing, washing, washing. I was whistling, too, so happy to be there. When I looked down, a bright green chameleon was wrapped sideways around the bottom of the fixture. See Jane scream! See Jane run! My husband saved the day by catching it. He didn’t even chase me around with it like he normally does. Bless his heart. At that point I poured myself a honkin’ glass of wine. Vacations are good for that.

Now, the second night in Utopia, we were all hyped about doing a fire outside. The first night we had our butts glued to lawn chairs, staring gape-jawed at a swarm of stars. It is true what the song says: The stars at night, are big and bright…clap,clap,clap,clap…deep in the heart of Texas. Our little place was tucked in next to the Sabinal River, complete with 400 hundred-year-old cypress trees, their tired spines reclining over the water.

Oh, back to the fire. Twigs were piled high. Newspaper tucked between cracks. After dinner we walked to the fire ring, a short distance from the cabin. It was pitch dark, the dang flashlight we knew we had, we didn’t have. I got there first and a piercing animal scream cut the night. Two more followed. Close. Very close. The sounds reminded me of a particular raptor in Jurassic Park. “Hurry, hurry, hurry. Come on baby light my fire!” That was me, shouting to my husband. Lighter fluid ignited, flames exploding. We never saw the thing. Must have scared him silly. Later that morning, 5:30 am. to be exact, I heard the raptor again, out yonder, by the fire ring, going to town. One eye popped open. “Go take a gander at it,” I told myself. The other eye was sealed shut. “No. Let it have its prized territory.” That eye won.

We are back home now, familiar traffic and neighbor noise. We do have our share of wild animals. A raccoon here. A possum there. Nothing like what we heard but never saw in Utopia. Of course, I will always have those dang lizards to keep me company no matter where I roam.