They Eat Iguanas in Mexico, Don't They?

Warning: Disturbing material, not kidding.



A long time ago, there was a young mother. Her family consisted of her husband, (a sailor), a fifteen year old daughter, and two sons, ages twelve and four. She loved her family and loved keeping their home, but for her own interest also kept a variety of other species. Each day she would feed and clean the kids, the dogs, the birds, (the sailor) and the intriguing Spike.


Spike was a beautiful, bright green, baby iguana. With some research and help from the kids, Spike's large aquarium home evolved into a lovely little world where he was safe and warm. They put a couple heat rocks in there, a large container of water for him to enjoy, big branches for him to climb up and fall asleep on under the sun lamp. He was petted, watched, treated to warm baths in the bathtub, and put on a special leash to go outside on warm sunny days to take in the sun. The young mother researched proper nutrition needs for iguanas, and he was fed fresh fruits and veggies, some hamburger and crickets and a calcium supplimant. Spike grew and grew. They were all fascinated with the way he shed huge patches of skin, and his color changed from a bright green to more of an olive.


One day, the young mother noticed that Spike wasn't moving so well. She watched him for many days. He never got better. He couldn't move the bottom half of his body and was expelling white stuff from his anus. Her heart was broken as she watched him suffer.


As the family sat around the dinner table, she presented the issue of Spike's illness for them to help solve. Living on a sailor's income, there was no extra money for a trip to the veterinarian. The young mother would not sacrifice her children's need for shoes to keep an iguana alive, a creature that was considered food in Latin America. So it was accepted that the purpose of the discussion was to end Spike's suffering. It was uncomfortable and extremely awkward, and the family made many jokes to defend themselves from the intrinsic horror. From putting him in the microwave to dragging him behind the car, several inappropriate ideas were placed on the table, by the stringbeans. The sad young mother tried hard to be serious, to impart on her children the severity of what they were discussing, but her own pain, discomfort and fear got the best of her and soon she was laughing as hard as the rest at the imagined ways of ending poor Spike's life.


It is unclear how the idea of freezing came to surface, but was accepted as the most painless way to stop a reptile's heart, of ending a painful existence, since a reptile's system slows down with the drop of temperature, until it stops entirely. With clenched teeth and moist eyes, the mother picked Spike up, easily done since he no longer moved much. She gently carried him into the kitchen and laid him on a piece of tin foil. Wrapping him up like she was rolling a burrito, she held the shiny coffin in her hands, and whispered "good bye, my friend". It took every ounce of strength she could summon to open the freezer door and gently place him in, way in the back.


Later that night, the family wanted some ice cream. The young mother, tender from her morbid task earlier, refused to get or have any herself. She would not open that freezer door for many days. Much time passed until she had come to terms with what she had done. She cleaned out the aquarium that served as Spike's home for those two years and finally retrieved the frozen package and threw it in the garbage. It was over. Spike would never suffer again.

Geese Aren't My Favorite

Back in the day, a young woman kept rabbits. Her heart held a special fondness for these gentle creatures. As a child, her mother had permitted a large, pink eyed New Zealand White to inhabit a corner of the back yard, and the love for these funny, quiet animals was born.

The young woman had a friend whose family had some land, and kept a horse, and a wide variety of ducks and geese. Within the goose keep, was a large multi-plex style rabbit hutch which the family allowed her to use to keep rabbits. This wooden hutch was set up on posts, with multiple sections separated by walls, each with it's own opening. Exiting the opening the rabbits had an enclosed hardware mesh yard, also raised from the ground. Being raised, the droppings never accumulated in their yard, dropping between the holes in the hardware mesh to the ground below. This is important to keep their little feet healthy. The variety of geese and ducks generally minded their own quirky business below.

She acquired a few different breeds, dutch rabbits, chinchilla rabbits, blue rex and angoras. They were beautiful, silky, happy little bunnys. The young woman was thrilled when they started to breed. The tiny little kits, as baby rabbits are known, were stunning and would easily melt the heart of the most hardened miscreant. Soon they were leaving the inside of the structure to explore the yard and the young woman delighted in their hoppy little antics.

One day, shortly after the litter had started spending time in the yard, the young woman entered the goose pen, shutting the gate behind her and serpentined around the geese and ducks to the hutch. Lifting her eyes, she screeched to a halt, looking in horror at the scene before her. Laying on their sides, on the floor of their hardware mesh yard were two little bitty bunnies. Their feet were mostly gone, and much of their skin. Fighting the urge to retch, she reached in and carefully extracted the diminutive bodies from the mesh yard. They were still alive.

Tears poured from her disbelieving eyes as she weighed the options before her. With a resolve that surprised even her, she filled a bucket with water. Still feeling the need to vomit, she faced what she had to do and slowly dropped her hand holding these poor mauled babies into the water. Squeezing her eyes shut, and choking back sobs she held her hand there until the squirming stopped.

Holding a spade in one hand and the wet bodies in the other, close to her body to keep them warm, she went to the back of the property and dug a hole for them, saying she was sorry, she placed them into their eternal beds, and covered them.

The young woman returned to the hutch and this time did not serpentine through the geese and ducks, but placed a few well aimed kicks at the nearest goose. For she had concluded that the tiny feet of the kits went through the mesh, and the geese nipped at them from underneath. Once immobilized, the geese continued to pick at the imobilized bunnies. Finding a tarp to place inside the enclosure over the mesh floor solved the problem of that happening again, but did nothing to erase the horror of what one animal can do to another. She energized further efforts into finding new homes for the rabbits.

The woman is many decades older now, but that memory can still be viewed in her head as if it were happening right then and there. Never again did she keep rabbits, although there remains a soft spot in her heart for them. She took with her a lesson - it involved forgiving the geese their inherent nature. Forgive them, for they know not what they do. But they still aren't my favorite...

Peace