A Lizard, A Cat, and My Need for a Nap

Even after an extra cup of coffee today, I needed a mid-afternoon nap. Sunk deep in my Sleep Number bed, I hardly roused when Eggs, my cat, clambered underneath. However, when she didn't settle down, I called her name, with affection, hoping to calm her.

It didn't work.

As the ruckus grew, I roused myself to make sure she wasn't plundering loot from my dresser top. After a quick look around, I found her hunched under my bedside table.

Thinking she was chewing power cords, I grabbed my shoe and waved it under the table. She backed up a step, but didn't run, frustrating me.

Still half on the bed, I leaned over for a closer look. As blood rushed to my head, I recognized a certain wide-eyed look in her eyes. Knowing something was up, I perused the cords again.

Only then did I see the lizard. The one that blended in with the surroundings.

The slithering reptile lay against the wall with Eggs close by. As I considered my options, both animals bolted under my bed, leaving me with a decision: Do I hunt the loose lizard or take my much needed nap?

There once was a day when I couldn't have napped with a lizard loose under my bed. The mere thought of a lizard crawling on me in my sleep would've kept me from slumber.

But not today. I'm older, more tired, and will soon celebrate ten years of marriage to a farm boy from South Georgia.

Just last night he encouraged me to not discourage Eggs when she brings in lizards. I was a little offended.

"I'm not discouraging our cat from hunting when I set her lizards free," I asserted. "I'm just letting her know I don't want her pets in my house. It's called healthy boundaries."

The problem? After taking her living room creatures away, I now know she's taken to bringing them into our bedroom.

But since my friend, Sue, once assured me that lizards eat bugs, I surprised myself, laid back down, and fell fast asleep.

Having chased Eggs and her lizards before, I knew it wasn't easy. With both under my bed, I hoped the pursuit would entertain the feline whilst I slept.

She hopped on me at some point. And as she crawled along the length of my body, I dreamily willed her to not have the lizard in tow. Convinced or uncaring, I didn't stir.

When I later woke and sat down to eat, a tiny squeak alerted me to unusual activity. Knowing a fake mouse lay at the foot of our bed and normally stayed quiet, suspicion grew.

So I pulled on the chest that sits at the foot of our bed and lifted the bed skirt. There I found Mr. Lizard laying quite still. He didn't even budge when I poked him.

While Eggs crawled in close, I didn't let her intrigue stop me from sweeping the almost dead creature into a small dust bin and throwing him over the porch rail.

Thus I will sleep in peace tonight with no thought to lizards.

I'm not quite sure if I've become mad or grown strong. Regardless, I'm different. Not only do I, an avid dog lover, own a cat, I clean her litter box, wipe my kitty scratches with hydrogen peroxide, and accept her need to bring home stray pets.

Odd. I know.

Things that once bothered me don't bother me the same any more.

For instance, last week, I learned something that hit me deep for a time. It hurt. Threw me off kilter. Dug up old feelings of rejection.

While I'm obviously not impervious to insult, I can celebrate that after a few days of processing, I dusted off the yuck, got up again, and pressed into "My Journey Home"... because I don't want to live in "The Great Undoing" anymore.

So let the cat play with the lizards under my bed, even while I nap.

God's love is bigger, bigger, bigger than the petty forays we often lose ourselves in.

This I know. And this I will fight to live out.