I assume the iguana crawled onto the back porch through the hole in the screen door but I was still surprised since, thanks to my big dog Ali, we rarely see iguanas in the back yard and they never ever venture onto the screened back porch that is patrolled by our two cats.
It had been a dark, rainy day but the sun had finally appeared and when I heard Ali produce a low, ominous growl I knew she had sighted Big Game. Immediately Haley and Parker were at her side at the sliding glass door in the living room, all staring intently at the large green iguana leisurely basking on the sunny screened porch.
Parker, the Junior Cat, is only three months old; he has no impulse control and he was doing cartwheels and somersaults in his eagerness to attack while Haley, as befitting her Senior Cat status, was crouched low, eyes narrowed, while the tip of her tail moved restlessly. Ali continued her growling, tail wagging furiously.
I knew there was no way I could get out the sliding door while keeping all three animals in the house, so I tiptoed around to the kitchen door, thinking that I could do an end-run around the pets and then shoo the iguana outside. Looking back, I did not have to tiptoe because it did no good whatsoever; as soon as I turned the knob on the kitchen door all three animals suddenly materialized and, as a pack, they all charged onto the back porch straight towards the iguana.
I have never considered iguanas to be especially expressive, but if a reptile is capable of conscious thought this one’s thought, judging by the look on his face was “Oh, fuck!” and, wisely, he beat a hasty retreat for the highest point on the porch: our concrete dining table.
If you’ve lived ever visited Florida you know the table: It’s a round, poured concrete table from the 1950’s with a bright mosaic of ceramic tile embedded in the concrete. It weighs a ton and is surrounded by three equally heavy curved, poured concrete benches. Now, the iguana leaped to the top of the table and, showing a rare collective presence of mind, Ali, Haley and Parker each jumped onto a bench. The iguana was surrounded.
Clearly unsure what the next step should be, first the iguana faced Ali who was baring her teeth, but then Parker smacked the iguana’s tail with his paw, so the iguana turned to confront Parker, but then Haley squeamishly sideswiped him with her paw. Undaunted, the iguana turned unexpectedly and charged at Ali who yelped and exited the table with impressive speed, tail low. Next, the lizard spun around and lunged towards Parker who backed off so quickly he fell off his bench. Finally he did a little pirouette and charged at Haley who stood her ground momentarily but then ran under the chaise, hissing over her shoulder as she ran. But by that time Parker and Ali had returned.
This little dance seemed likely to continue indefinitely so I went into the kitchen to get the wastebasket. I tiptoed back out, all four animals looking at me with varying degrees of contempt, but as I tried to put the wastebasket down over the iguana he charged at me, startling me enough that I went down hard on my butt, taking the concrete bench down with me. At the sound, all 3 of the pets ran in different directions while the iguana ran out a brand new hole in the screen that he himself created.
Cursing, limping, I herded the animals back in the house and then managed to pick up the pieces of the concrete bench. Then, I went back inside and poured myself a well-earned Diet Coke. That’s when I heard Ali’s low, ominous growl: the iguana was back on the porch, sunning on the concrete table.