This is an email from Maryetta A., Merida resident, telling us why she couldn’t make the meeting of our writers’ group.
I really wanted to be with you this morning. Sounds like you’ll be having an interesting discussion. But an unexpected encounter keeps me home this morning.
Three terriers rushed out of the house toward the back wall, where the fourth bayed in triumph. He’d located the iguana. Buried among the thorny branches of the bougainvilleas, the two-foot-long lizard hissed at Dandy.
Dandy squeezed in and grabbed the iguana by the neck, dragging him out of his lair. The other three dogs pounced, snapping and nipping at the beast. This was not their first encounter with the same old varmint.
Tiny Dash, closing in on the iguana’s mouth, moved a little too slowly and got caught in those super-sharp teeth. She squealed and cried, louder and louder.
Mommy Maryetta followed the dogs out of the house and helplessly flapped a magazine at the embroiled dogs. But Dandy was dragging the iguana and poor Dash all over the yard, and Maryetta, barefoot, couldn’t get close enough to help. Finally she clomped her bare foot on the iguana’s tail, trying to halt Dandy’s rampage, but he was too quick. Dandy, iguana, Dash, and Maryetta’s foot made a fast U-turn. The magazine trick worked, then, and Maryetta was able to shoo the dogs back into the house.
Result: One sad iguana, still alive but badly bruised. One sad pup, bleeding but still able to eat her supper. Three black toes on Maryetta’s foot. One crippled maruxa, hobbling with a cane, wondering if iguanas are a protected species. And one triumphant Dandy.