Jumped out of bed,
Stepped on a dead lizard …
Luckily (for me not the lizard) he was small and dry so there was no squish. This is why I don’t share my bedroom with the cat! Having had it implied by others that I am cold and heartless (which I am) for keeping him out, I’ve recently started letting him in on occasion. I guess he felt so grateful he left me a present; a present he had apparently killed and played with for over a day before depositing it on just the right spot so that I would be sure to step on it when I put my foot down. I can just see old Sig and his six-toed paws carefully maneuvering the lizard into place, tapping it just a couple of millimeters this way and that, working out the angles, to get his desired effect, while I unwittingly slept.
I said a little prayer for Eddie. Yes. I named him Eddie Lizard before I buried him at sea.
I guess I should be thankful his gift was only a little dead lizard on the floor. I had a cat once serve me a live roach in bed … yeah … that was a lot of fun. Still miss that cat …. I think that was when the “no cats in the bedroom” rule began to formulate.