Let’s be real, bearded dragons have no street cred as more people realize they’re just gummy bears that poop on your stuff.
Regardless, we have created this collective fantasy that makes taking our dragons out in public feel so bad ass. What’s not so bad ass? A lost, hurt, or even dead dragon.
That was dark right? We all hope we’re living in a safe world where nothing goes wrong, but we don’t. Sometimes it takes a bad experience to make that clear.
Sometimes that bad experience happens when you’re just going around the corner to your own damn mailbox.
One Evil Spring
(I’m dramatic, whatever).
In my neighborhood, full green Sycamore trees draw you outdoors while the sun browns your skin as it filters through the clouds, keeping you there.
Cool weather, empty streets and fresh air—it’s another illusion, one that created a sense of security.
On one particularly evil spring day, I fell into the trap. I decided to bring Grimm with me while I got the mail. I placed him on my shoulder like I always do, with no harness and no fear, and out the door we went.
Runaway Dragon
We hit the sidewalk when fate decided to sh*t all over me. You read that right, not Grimm, fate.
Of course I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, I rarely ever do, but Grimm did. Looking back, I like to think that he saw a real dragon flying overhead.
Because listen, Grimm sits by the window all day long. Birds often swoop by. He ducks for cover, even flexes his beard sometimes but NEVER has he reacted as viscerally as he did that day.
Now, we all know that the safest place for Grimm is with me. Unfortunately, his teeny tiny lizard brain instinct told him to get the hell out of there and that he did. He saw a bird and then he hit the pavement so fast my own tiny brain froze.
We were in a bad spot, with a sinister looking storm drain on one side (that still gives me the creeps) and my neighbor’s unfortunately accessible backyard with an enormous dog in waiting.
Grimm had two choices—he could either disappear down the storm drain with Pennywise where everything floats, or he could run straight into the territory of a dog that would enjoy nothing more than to tear him to pieces.
He made his choice in the space of a breath—it was going to be the dog.
The Dog Next Door
I saw his little butt as it disappeared under this ugly, old Winnebago that sits in my neighbor’s driveway. I dropped to my bare knees on the concrete because adrenaline doesn’t mix with sense. The skin splitting open gave me pause, but it really didn’t matter.
I looked under the Winnebago and saw that familiar little butt flying out the other end. He was headed straight for the backyard fence where he’d surely be lost to me.
By the grace of the Dragon Queen, at the last possible second, Grimm took a sharp right turn and ran straight into the only part of the fence that he couldn’t get under. He basically cornered himself up against some loose wooden planks that leaned against the fence and the wall of their house. I was able to get to him without anything bad happening.
Never have I been so grateful to write a story with an anti-climatic ending.
Gripped Him Tight and Raised Him From Perdition
Castiel sweetie, I’m so sorry.
In all seriousness, he was SPOOKED. How could I be so careless with him? He was jet black with his beard on full display, and he was hissing something terrible. He was the fearsome, wild thing he was always meant to be, even if only for a moment.
I was actually afraid to hold him. My heart was pounding, and I was shaking because I thought I had almost lost him. It was and still is too scary for me to think about.
An ordinary moment almost ruined our lives.
After a few minutes of me bandaging up my knees, and him floating in a warm bath, he calmed down and life went on.
A Cautionary Tale
How had it never occurred to me that something like that could happen? It was because I made assumptions about bearded dragon behavior. I believed they were docile and dependent and forgot that they are wild things. What if this happened in a parking lot? What if he ended up in that storm drain? Or in the mouth of the dog? The thought terrifies me.
Grimm might never have felt the need to take off and he surely wouldn’t have had the chance had he been properly secured. And the real kicker is that I had a harness for him all along, but never made him wear it.
Now, it just feels like the best way to protect Grimm (and Norman) from something terrible happening because this experience was very traumatic for me and my dragon. And that’s why my boys are now ALWAYS properly secured with a harness.
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