Note: The Gecko Chronicles are not posted sequentially, but you can find them all batched in a tidy little group at the left.
I HAVE NO SHAME
The first victim on my hit list of possible foster parents for the gecko was Mr. G. Mr. G. is the Science teacher at my younger son’s school and he has a room full of critters and varmints. He also took in Shelley’s skinks a few years back.
I was at the school last spring and on a whim I wrote him a note and stuck it in his mail cubby. “Dear Mr. G., You don't know me, but I have a cute Leopard Gecko that needs a new home and I was wondering if you’d be willing to take him in.” I included my name, phone number, cell number, two email addresses and my younger son’s homeroom (in case he wanted to respond, in kind, with a handwritten note).
Weeks went by. Nothing,
Years ago, when Shelley offered him the skinks, she included a $50 gift card to Petco, which would pay for their crickets for years to come. I was certainly willing to do the same, but I didn’t include it in the note because I’m cheap and first wanted to see if I could just unload the lizard for free.
I wasn’t sure if Mr. G. simply didn’t want the gecko or if I needed to sweeten the deal. I made it a point to run into him whenever I needed to visit the school. I introduced myself. I chatted him up about gametes. During the hot and crowded Science Fair I spent 20 hot and crowded minutes lingering over his Power Point presentation. Once I felt I’d fully ingratiated myself, I popped the question. “So, did you ever decide about my gecko?”
He had no idea what I was talking about. He’d never gotten the note, or if he had, he doesn’t remember it. He would certainly consider the gecko, he said, but not now. It’s almost summer vacation. Talk to him in September, he told me.