But at the time, the name seemed appropriate.
Lucky.
Hatched from an unexpected egg, and he survived being in the same tank as his huge, predatory mother.
So “Lucky” seemed like a valid name.
I’d read that it’s very difficult to raise baby anoles in captivity. Very tricky. They’re complicated, these cold-blooded creatures.
But things seemed to be going well.
Until they weren’t.
Lucky passed away last night. So tiny. Poor little thing. Not so lucky, after all.
I wish I was strong enough to hug the sadness out of Alex.
I know. He will be fine. Kids are resilient. Actually he even suggested, in a whisper, that maybe we could get another lizard or a frog, and give it to Julia as a surprise. She’s never had one of her very own. And that way the tank wouldn’t be empty.
I took the reptile books out of Alex’s backpack. He carries a few books around so that he can read in the morning before class starts. I left him the library book about moose and another book about night creatures.
And I put a little travel pack of tissues in there, too.
Just in case.
~~~
Lucky will be buried today, after school, in the boat garden, in the vicinity of Dinoraptasaurus’s grave.
Now I have to find a tiny little casket. The Land o’ Lakes butter box is way too big.
