“Sicks” being how my baby Lizard Breath pronounced “chicks” when she was, well, a baby. Seriously. If you observe Easter, give candy and dyed eggs and stuffed aminals and whatnot. Have fun hiding them around the house. Or yard, if you live in a consistently warm climate. Real baby chicks, ducklings, baby rabbits? No. Not unless you have a pretty darn good idea about what you are getting into and some experience. I don’t think most of us do. I don’t.

Like Grandroobly (aka my dad), probably back in the 1920s or so. He bought a baby alligator from his friend Basil. He paid 25 cents. He brought the baby alligator home and lodged it in the bathtub overnight. His mother put up with that situation about that long if I have it right but, in the cold clear light of day, she said something like, “Jack, you cannot keep that alligator here.” So he sold it. For a dime. I don’t know who he sold it to. Probably not Basil. I wonder sometimes what happened to that baby alligator. Or maybe I don’t wonder so much. My dad grew up in Sault Ste. Siberia and I do not think that any alligator could survive long in the wilds of the Great White North. There is a lot of water up there but that water is in its solid state for a good share of the year. Alligators? Not. And yes, I am sure that it has been many decades since pet shops sold baby alligators. What the heck were people thinking?

I have been a dragon lady about pets. The Landfill household has never owned a dog or cat. I just didn’t want the trouble. We are on the road a lot and it is hard enough to pack a minivan for a family of four, let alone a pet or two or three. And now that the kids are grown up, I work and I am not home to deal with pets. I love aminals but I am just not willing to deal with them on a day-to-day basis. Frooggy is bad enough and really, he is a puppet, and I *can* (sometimes) turn him off!!!

Oh, and all of the other kids in the photooo are Sherman kids. We were on The Long Trip that we took when I was a little kid and we’re at the Sherman house in Lewiston, NY, near Niagara Falls and I am the one making the crazy-happy-there-are-kids-here face! The boy on the left holding my hand is Danny Sherman, not my brother. My brother was not born yet on this trip but he was on the way.

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