There must be lots of them around, we see them occasionally darting across the walls. In fact, they replace the three garish pictures quite beautifully (the ones that came with the house and we couldn't bear; the ones we grabbed and stashed behind the wall) - well now instead we have a perpetually-changing gecko mosaic - much better. Call it 'Geckorama'.
Kira and I agreed that we are not afraid. There are much, much worse, unmentionable critters (shhh... cockroaches, especially the flying ones). No, geckos we like, especially since they will eat any of the unmentionable others.
Sometimes they hunt and when they do we turn off the TV and watch THEM instead. We saw a little guy take out a dozy wasp twice its size. It leapt and got it mid-air and dragged it under the TV table. I would love to say that fierce buzzing was followed by crunching sounds but no, we heard nothing. We just sat there in eerie silence, pointing at each other and the dark undertable.
Then there are the noisy ones I was telling you about earlier, the ones that use the family lamps for their propaganda.
And finally there is the Big One, the one we know as The Guardian. He can be found in the highest corner, under the roof - but only at nightfall. There he sits, and here I sit, looking up but not quite underneath; if he falls - which I know he won't! unless we consider a monumental paw-glue collapse, or paw-er failure - I wouldn't want him to plop onto my head.
So, where was I? Yes, we sit together companionably, with me telling him stuff and him doing that statue thing, those eyes wide and alert, that make me think Either he knows exactly what I'm on about Or he's wondering if he can stretch his jaw enough to swallow my head.
Except two nights ago, when - after some wind and black clouds and rising pressure and rustlings in the rice field - a booming rain pummeled the ground. And guess who scuttled indoors straight away, to hide behind the curtain?
Wimp.
Kira and I agreed that we are not afraid. There are much, much worse, unmentionable critters (shhh... cockroaches, especially the flying ones). No, geckos we like, especially since they will eat any of the unmentionable others.
Sometimes they hunt and when they do we turn off the TV and watch THEM instead. We saw a little guy take out a dozy wasp twice its size. It leapt and got it mid-air and dragged it under the TV table. I would love to say that fierce buzzing was followed by crunching sounds but no, we heard nothing. We just sat there in eerie silence, pointing at each other and the dark undertable.
Then there are the noisy ones I was telling you about earlier, the ones that use the family lamps for their propaganda.
And finally there is the Big One, the one we know as The Guardian. He can be found in the highest corner, under the roof - but only at nightfall. There he sits, and here I sit, looking up but not quite underneath; if he falls - which I know he won't! unless we consider a monumental paw-glue collapse, or paw-er failure - I wouldn't want him to plop onto my head.
So, where was I? Yes, we sit together companionably, with me telling him stuff and him doing that statue thing, those eyes wide and alert, that make me think Either he knows exactly what I'm on about Or he's wondering if he can stretch his jaw enough to swallow my head.
Except two nights ago, when - after some wind and black clouds and rising pressure and rustlings in the rice field - a booming rain pummeled the ground. And guess who scuttled indoors straight away, to hide behind the curtain?
Wimp.
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