This label shall be called Life with Hans.
I grew up with pets.
Hans did not.
My family's menagerie ranged anywhere from cats to 'coons, mutts to purebreds.
Hans grew up with none.
Our pets had birthday parties, complete with cakes baked by my mother.
Hans' family was normal.
Imagine then, how Hans, in the early days of our dating, must have felt the day Jamal lost his tail.
Jamal was a skink, which is a fancy word for lizard.
Brought home by Middle Daughter, who from now on shall be known as Jan, (Marcia!Marcia!Marcia!) Jamal had simple needs. These needs being; heat to stay warm, and live crickets to eat. For some reason Jamal's needs suddenly became my responsibility.
Baby Girl, who is 20 months younger than her sister (What the Hell was I thinking! 3 KIDS in 5 years!), took advantage of Jans absence to show off to Hans by taking Jamal out of his aquarium and scratching his little lizard head. In Hans' face.
Jamal, who didn't want his little head scratched, leaped out of Baby Girl's hands and landed with a splat on the kitchen floor.
Leaving behind, his tail.
In Baby Girl's hands.
Thus demonstrating a charming defense mechanism used by skinks.
I immediately started shrieking, all the while doing a bizarre little Mexican Hat Dance in the middle of the floor, and was of no help at all.
Baby Girl, after wildly flinging the severed tail, bellowed, "SHUT UP MOM, JUST SHUT UP!" while she tried to corral poor, confused little Jamal into a corner so she could scoop him back up.
I continued with my hysterical screaming dance, which now included frenzied arm waving.
In the mean time, in the middle of my kitchen table, having landed on the newspaper that Hans had been trying to read, Jamal's disembodied tail was writhing in it's own crazy fashion.
Finally, an astonished Jamal was captured and deposited, tailless, back into his aquarium.
I snatched the newspaper from in front of a motionless Hans, and threw it along with the flip flopping tail, into the garbage can.
I then sank into a chair and not quite sobbing, apologized for the hysteria.
"Believe me!" I implored. "Stuff like this never happens in my house." I lied.
Very calmly and still staring at the spot where his morning newspaper had been, Hans quietly replied, "I just felt it best to remain calm."
Is this man a keeper or what?
This is Chlorox, sometime timid kitty, sometime fierce mouser, placating poor little Jamal.
"Hey Jamal, I'm sure you're just as tasty...I mean nice without your tail as you are with it. Wanna come out and play?"