This is Geronimo. She is a Giant Day Gecko, bred in captivity. When she needed a new home (at just a few weeks of age) we invited her to come here.
Late at night when writer’s block threatens to derail me or I just flat out need a break, I catch moths and stick them in her habitat. She loves that. Lately she’s come to expect it. Not only does she stare at me, similar to the gaze in the photo, but she has also taken to opening her mouth.
It’s like she’s saying, “Hey, you! Human lady person! See this mouth? IT’S EMPTY!”
A few weeks ago I had a case of the blues. Under normal circumstances I can shake them and plod forward. This time the blues had a bit of death grip and they weren’t letting go.
“I think it’s time to find a new home for Geronimo and Jack,” I told a friend. Captain Jack is a Crested Gecko rehomed to us when his owner went off to college.
“What?” My friend exclaimed. “But you love your reptiles!”
Yes, I explained. And that’s why I had to let them go. I just wasn’t spending enough time with them. Didn’t they deserve better?
My friend pointed out that geckos, especially Geronimo’s species, were display animals. “Would you take a goldfish out of an aquarium and play with it? I mean, sheesh. It’s not a puppy.”
That really put it in perspective. After all, the skin of a Giant Day Gecko is paper thin. If I did handle her, I could risk hurting her.
Last night around 2 o’clock in the morning I closed my laptop. Geronimo dashed across her habitat and stared at me through the window. When I put my finger on the glass, she didn’t scurry away, but stayed there, smiling, as if to say thanks for keeping me around.
I’m glad now that I did.