Chapter Five
I stared at Tigger, looking so peaceful slumbering on my pillow. I really should move him, but I didn’t have the heart. Instead, I grabbed a spare cushion from the hall closet and snuggled down beside my pet.
A pet who kept surprising.
As someone who’d owned many reptiles over the years, this one defied everything I thought I knew about them. For one, it truly knew how to express its feelings. Surprise, curiosity, the mannerisms it displayed, like crossing its arms. Then there was its intelligence. Observing us eating with utensils and wanting one of its own. How it figured out the toilet. It truly must be a rare breed. A thought that brought worry, because that likely meant Tigger was probably valuable and most likely missed by whoever used to own it.
At the same time, they should have taken better care. Finders keepers. At least until someone came knocking and demanded I give Tigger back.
The next morning, I woke to Tigger snuggled under my chin, its little body heating. Weird. Most reptiles ran cold. Was it sick? As I shifted away from my pet, I noticed its skin peeling. Entering a molting phase. Probably why it ran hot.
When I returned from getting breakfast, I noticed Tigger hadn’t moved and actually snored. I pursed my lips. Disturbing the lizard to put it in the tank seemed mean. I left it sleeping, placing some food on the floor for it to find in case it woke up hungry, closed my bedroom door, and headed to the workshop.
When I checked on Tigger at lunch, the food had been eaten and the bowl of water drained. The lizard had returned to its spot on my pillow, its outer skin sloughing in large patches, and did my eyes deceive, or had it grown? Surely it couldn’t have almost doubled in size overnight? Then again, look at how it ate.
I didn’t return until dinner time and frowned, hearing the television going in my room. Most likely Tigger stepped on the remote. I entered to find the lizard sitting back, leaning against my pillow, the remote lying alongside it.
Don’t tell me it figured out how to use it.
“I see someone is feeling better,” I murmured as I eyed the skin it had shed in a pile on the floor beside my bed.
It cocked its head before nodding.
“Hungry?” I noticed the meal I’d left it at lunch was cleared down to the last crumb.
It scrambled to its hind legs, standing and holding out its front paws. Wait, did it want me to pick it up?
As I leaned in to grab, my eyes widened. “Well, guess there’s no doubt you’re a boy.” Apparently, along with its fresh and somehow brighter orange skin, its testes had dropped. Weird. Reptiles usually kept those tucked in their abdomen. Then again, nothing about Tigger was normal.
I scooped him, placing him on my shoulder, where he clung to my shirt as I headed to the kitchen.
“What do you say we barbecue tonight? I swung by the grocery store and grabbed us some steaks.”
The chirp Tigger emitted almost sounded like a yes. “Wait until you have a bite of my double-stuffed baked potato. So yummy. And of course, a salad, because we need our greens.”
I jerked, as I could have sworn someone squeaked, “No, we don’t.”
A glance around showed me alone. Tutu was in the shop still, dealing with paperwork. Must be my imagination, that or I truly was turning into a crazy spinster hearing voices.
It didn’t take long to prep everything. The potatoes had slow baked that afternoon so the insides were easy to scoop and blend with cheese, butter, and chunks of bacon. While the steaks grilled, I put the potatoes on a plate, smothered in sour cream, green onions, and more cheese. The salad, sprinkled with a simple vinaigrette, popped with color as I’d added cut-up peppers, tomatoes, and onions.
Tutu arrived as I pulled the steaks from the grill.
“Dinner’s ready,” I stated.
“It better be. My brain needs food after dealing with Tom.” Tom being our accountant, who insisted on proper receipts for everything, which my grandfather hated. “Bloody government always reaching out for their cut.”
“Grab the door for me, would you, so I don’t drop the steaks.”
Tutu held it open long enough for me to enter the house. As I slapped them onto plates, he plopped into his chair, making it groan ominously.
Tigger was on the table waiting—and drooling. I put a plate down for him, but when he would have dived in, I wagged a finger. “Just a second.” I then proceeded to cut up the steak into tiny bites.
“You’re feeding the vermin a ribeye?” Tutu exclaimed.
“He eats what we eat. And don’t worry, I paid for it.”
Once I finished prepping Tigger’s meat, I presented him with a surprise. “Look what I made for you today.” I had taken a spoon and fork into the shop and shortened their handles. I handed over the lizard-sized implements, and Tigger actually smiled with a lot of teeth. He then proceeded to eat, stabbing the meat with his fork and making a low rumbling sound of contentment.
