Goodbye

Alas there's not much to say. After nearly twelve years, my beloved friend Sweetie the iguana died. That was Saturday evening. We buried her under the carambola tree In the same place that I found her. Sweetie has lived here uncaged for all this time. She was probably about two when I brought her home in a shoe box. She measured about forty seven inches when she died. I am broken hearted. I have no real idea why she died. It was a shock. She lay just a few feet away from the wall where she basked in the sun. I went out to check on her because she occasionally runs off. Not finding her on the wall, I walked around to see if she had snuck off to nibble my neighors hibiscus flowers. instead she lay under the carambola, stretched out as though she were resting in the shade. I reached down to pick her up and she had no muscle tone. I saw her tongue protruded slightly and he eyes seemed to move a bit. But I knew she was gone. I desperately wanted to save her but I could see she was not moving. No breath, no heartbeat, the tough, which used to taste everything, no longer pink but a greyish white. I brought water to cool her down give her a drink but it was no use. The water dribbled out and her body grew cold as the sun went down. The next day I dug a trench about three feet deep, and we laid her to rest, wrapped two of my old favorite T-shirts, sprinkled her with dried patchoulli and lavender. We also buried a mango, her favorite food, and a bottle with some pictures Of each of us holding her. We also enclosed a personal message saying farewell. Masha picked some flowers and tossed them in and after we had closed the grave, Denny saluted her.
Iguanas are not the most affectionate animals. In the wild they are quick to bite and scratch in self defense. Even captive animals can be quite nasty. But they do have personalities which develop over time. Sweetie was always hand fed or allowed to graze in the garden, (she loved to eat young snow peas right off the vine,) She was rarely caged or confined. At times, she would even come to the door and scratch when she wanted to come in. In side she spent most of her life on the top of a wicker book case in the kitchen. Where she watched as we prepared meals or sat around talking. She was frequently petted, (although she only tolerated this,) and often held. She was part of our daily lives as much as a cat or dog would be. She was a special pet and we did call her Sweetie because of her sweet nature. Even the mailman liked her.
I like to think that i learned something from her but i can't put that into words right now. Life is full of lessons.