The gecko saga continues

This is a post I placed on facebook that began the saga. 
My child has just announced he will be sleeping on the couch tonight. It seems that a gecko climbed in his open window and scurried under his chest of drawers. I figured with all the rain the last few days, the thing was about drowned. My response of "You should be happy to have the gecko. He can eat all the bugs that are hiding in your room." didn't help. Of course John is out of town today. Every creature event we have had, he has been out of town. Any suggestions on trapping a 3 to 4 inch gecko?

This is the next and hopefully last installment
Gareth and I had a little surprise on Sunday evening in his room.  Gareth exclaims "Something is wrong with Fred?"  My first thoughts are Fred, Fred who.  Gareth then explains Fred is the gecko that has been protecting his room since Fred moved in.  Great now the gecko that rain him out of his room has a name. What was wrong with Fred was that he was dead as a door nail, flipped on his back, with his little gecko feet sticking straight out.  If you held Fred out by his half tail, then he would stick out like a correctly cooked piece of bacon.  If I alone had found Fred, Fred and a piece of toilet paper would have gone out the open window.  But no, WE found Fred.  Thus We now have an adventure.

I am learning restraint in speaking my thoughts in my aging, so I asked Gareth what he thought we should do with the gecko.  Gareth responded that we needed to bury Fred at the beach.  Why the beach I asked.  Gareth responded that since Fred had lived his whole life so close but never got to go, that needed to be his finaly resting place.  Great.

We have deleveloped a relationship with 3 older fisherman on our beach.  Every day that we go down to the beach they stare at us.  I say good mornig in Portuguese, and they stare at use like we have 2 heads.  We do something very gringo in nature, they laugh at us.  When we leave I say good bye and they stare at us again. I could just see their faces when we dig a very deep hole and hold a funeral on the beach for a gecko.

In my brain I am trying to be a good mom, but at the same time trying to figure out a way to get out of a funeral.  First I explain that I don't think we have a casket for Fred.  Gareth responds that we have Ziplocs, my precious Ziplocs, would work wonderfully. 

Anyone who knows me well knows I love Ziplocs.  I use them for everything.  I just knew that there would be some type of ziplocish bag down here.  NO.  NONE.  Has to brought fro the US.  When John went to Houston I had Lots of Ziplocs in all sizes on his list.  He was walking distance to a Sam's.  I figured he knew what lots meant.  Nope.  He bought 1 small box each of 2 sizes, not even freezer style.  Needless to say I use them very sparingly, and holding a gecko was not my choice of of a use for one of my special ziplocs.

Being the giving mother I try to be.  I was finally to adjusted to the idea that Fred could spend his after life eternal (because you know that nothing goes bad in a ziploc) in a ziploc.  Next question was where could Fred stay until the next day since I was not going to the beach at night to bury a gecko.  Gareth quickly responded that Fred should be stored in a morgue.  Great just what we have tons of here in Brazil, pet morgues.  Expecially since I know how to say morgue in Portuguese, yeah right.  After some thought and some analysis, Gareth decided that our freezer was the right temperature to maintain and acceptable body temperature of Fred's body so it would not decay.  But the proper spot was on top of a hard lump in the freezer (the file mignon I have bought the day before).  Thank goodness Fred is in a ziploc. 

So after using some  tongs to gently pick up Fred, I placed him in a ziploc that Gareth was holding that was lined at the bottom with our best toilet paper, definitely not Charmin here.  He was then placed in the freezer to await burial. 

The next morning arose and Gareth decided to watch Men in Black, one of the movies John borught back to us) with a litle encouragement from Mom of breakfast and a movie.  I did not mention Fred, nor did I even open the freezer while Gareth was in the kitchen.  Monday passed with not mention of Fred, thank goodness for short memories.  As of this moment Fred is still resting on my beef.  If we have not had to suffer through a funeral by next Monday, Fred will be going to the resting place of unclaimed geckoes, the garbage dumpster.  Oh and he can keep the ziploc.