Meet Spike

The other night, Ruyman and I went to a party thrown by Carmen’s friend. There were a lot people there, some we knew, some we didn’t. Around the middle of the evening, a dark stranger leaning on the balcony caught my attention. His dark eyes were intriguing, as were his reserved manners. His name was Spike. We got to know each other a little better and I decided he was perfect for me. With the full knowledge and approval of my husband, I took Spike home with me.

Spike is, of course, a lizard. I found him on a patio wall and, remembering my half joke about adopting a gecko, thought he would be the ideal solution to our cockroach problem. Our hostess volunteered a jar with a lid, another guest put air holes in the lid, and a third guest added a few sprigs of cilantro for color. (They were pretty drunk by this time.) I protected him from the destructive curiosity of the kids at the party and he made it safely back to Carmen’s kitchen.

There was only one obstacle in my way: Carmen. She wasn’t keen on adding a lizard to the list of occupants, even if it would mean a decrease in the bug population. So I did what any good, obedient daughter-in-law would do. I waited until she was out of the house, and let Spike loose. 

At first, the roaches didn’t know what to make of him. In fact, one of the bigger ones rammed him, which I think startled them both. When he started gobbling up the little ones, the food chain in the kitchen was properly established. And I don’t know if it’s my imagination or not, but I’ve seen fewer things wriggling in the dark.