Seven years, told slowly
Nothing dramatic has ever happened to Iguana, with the possible exception of the curtains. Here is the whole thing anyway.
- 2019Chapter 1 of 5
About the size of a teaspoon
Iguana hatched in the spring, bright green and almost weightless, with a tail longer than the rest of him and no sense of scale whatsoever. He spent his first months convinced he could climb anything, which was mostly true and occasionally expensive.
- 2020Chapter 2 of 5
A change of address
He came to us as a rehome. His first family had loved him and had also, quite understandably, not realized how large a green iguana becomes. He arrived in a tank he had long outgrown and moved into something with proper height within the week.
- 2022Chapter 3 of 5
The curtain incident
During supervised time out of his enclosure, Iguana discovered the curtains. He went up them like a ladder, reached the rail, and sat there radiating triumph. The curtains did not survive. The habit of building him taller things to climb began that day.
- 2024Chapter 4 of 5
Shoulder rights
Somewhere in his fifth year he decided that a shoulder was an acceptable branch. He now steps onto one without being asked, settles his front feet, and stays for as long as it suits him. It remains entirely his decision.
- 2026Chapter 5 of 5
Seven, and thoroughly settled
These days he is a creature of firm routine: lamps at seven, greens at eight, basking until mid-morning, a wander, a soak, and a long green afternoon. He has strong views and a very slow walk, and he is exactly as much personality as a person can fit into one lizard.
