CRAIG'S CAIMAN ESCAPES

CRAIG'S CAIMAN ESCAPES                                                                                                                                                                                    

         When I think of an unusual pet, my former co-worker Craig comes to mind. He'd often regale me with the story of his caiman' s escape. The name sounded so exotic because it reminded me of The Cayman Islands.                                                                                                                        

         We did not live in a tropical locale with endless blue skies, bright sunshine, sparkling azure ocean, gently waving palm trees, and balmy breezes. Our reality was a northern Ontario, Canada resort village nestled snug to a tiny spring-fed lake. We endured snow, storms, and slippery ice for at least six months a year. For the remaining months, we battled blood-crazed bugs, humid spells, and littering leaves.                              

         Our wildlife tended to be moose, deer, wolf, raccoon, porcupine, skunk, rabbit, geese, duck, owl, and hawk; hardy and vigorous animals. Most people favoured dogs, cats, and horses as pets; animals they could groom, cuddle, coddle, play with and walk. Warm-blooded and furry friends are the companions of choice.                                                            

         Craig had wanted a different pet; something no one else considered. He adopted a dwarf caiman which is basically a mini alligator. No fur to ruffle or brush or shed; just strong body armour, tough and bumpy. There were no perky or floppy ears. There were chestnut-brown eyes, both Craig's and the caiman's, but the reptile stared with an eerie- vertical- slit of a pupil. This odd choice of a pet didn't wag or furl his tail; he swished it slowly from side to side or dragged it. It was as if the long heavy tail was an undulating snake.          

         Craig's gator wasn't cute in the conventional pet-lovers' sense. He had a squat brownish-black body with a dinosaur'ish dome-shaped skull and a short, smooth, concave snout. With his many teeth he seemed dangerous; capable of sudden snapping.                                                            

         Craig kept this native of Central and South America in his second-floor apartment. All three feet of the caiman was wedged into a glass aquarium with a lid. According to Craig, his gator was lazy and slept most of the time, especially during the day.                                                            

         One night, around midnight, Craig returned to his apartment to find the empty aquarium overturned on its side. Turning on the lights, he expected to see his wayward pet on, under, or near the couch. It didn't take him long to search and realize that the dwarf caiman had disappeared. Groping for a logical explanation, the roommate was called and he denied moving or having the reptile.                                        

         Craig was stumped. Where could the mini gator go? How did he escape the apartment? Had he managed to get outside, but why? It was winter time; an alien environment to a caiman. With further effort, Craig noticed that the patio door was slightly ajar. Stepping out onto his tiny balcony, he could see that something had been dragged through the snow. Peering out over the railing, it was obvious that the snow below in the street had been disturbed. Had the caiman jumped or fallen?                                                                                                                        

         Unfortunately, the caiman's trail ended at a nearby road; messy with slush and tire tracks. He seemed to have vanished. Days would pass and Craig began to believe that his pet had perished.                              

         Meanwhile, a local flooring shop owner noticed that one of his plastic trash pails had rolled into an alley. His grumbling was soon cut short by what he never expected to witness; a grinning or was it grimacing gator. He must have been stunned; a gator in a garbage pail? A raccoon or a rat or even a dog would've been plausible. He reacted as any sane person would do; he righted the container and capped it with the lid. The caiman-trapper then went in search of others to share his incredible discovery. As I said earlier, it's a small rural village. This was big news.                                                                                                                        

         Word spread quickly. This was a something that just had to be seen with one's own two eyes to believe. Before long, Craig heard that an ugly, ferocious, honest-to-God real alligator had been found. Hurrying to the now crowded alley and pushing his way through a sea of perplexed people clad in toques and parkas, Craig was reunited with his wandering caiman.                                                                                          

         Amazingly, the confused animal was neither injured nor inclined to inflict harm upon anyone. Obviously, he was tough and tenacious, but the winter cold made him lethargic. Had it been summertime perhaps he'd have strolled to the lake for some freshwater fishing. I can imagine panicked tourists gleefully spreading the tale of Lake Bernard's own version of the Loch Ness Monster.
755 words