I thought it would be cool to own a lizard. So I begged for one for weeks, until my parents finally caved.

There was something about them, something that made me stand and watch them as they fought for dominance and fought for freedom from their cage. I decided I wanted one of those. And in the corner, the tiniest body of all, sat one baby bearded dragon, separated from the others, head tilted, mouth opened just slightly. I looked at him. He looked at me. That one. I want that one. That one right there in the corner, the little guy; the runt. I took his tiny body home in a tiny box. 

Now, 4 years later, the tiny little guy I brought home isn’t so tiny anymore. “He’s so big,” people speak with wide eyes when I show them my pride and joy. Those three words go into one ear, and never, never, come out the other, instead the words fall into my brain and ice over in a blue. 

It’s thought that there’s not much to them. That they’re lazy; inactive. That they’re unaffectionate; they don’t love you like a dog whom you pet and play with. That they’re scary; intimidating. That they’re just lizards.

My Charlie likes to climb and explore, he absolutely loves cuddles, like a teddy bear. Bearded dragons get a black beard when mad or stressed. When this happens to my Charlie, all I do is hold him, cradle him against my collar bone; his favorite spot, and everything’s all better. His beard returns to its usual pigmentation. It’s like holding the hand of a small crying human, one who shares your eyes and the texture of your hair. He opens his stunning hazel eyes, rimmed with gold, when I call his name. But it’s only a lizard. 

He fell ill.

He stopped eating and became responsive only to touch. He no longer explores my bedroom, finding small nooks and crannies to sleep in. He still loves to cuddle. I see his gorgeous eyes rarely, they’re hidden from me behind his lids, one of which is swollen.

October 9th of 2023, I was convinced he was passing before his vet appointment. My knees locked, dirty, and bloodied from the hours of supporting me while I kiss the feet of the heavens above, in thanks that I got to bring him back where he belongs; with me.

He’s just a lizard, and yet, when I was convinced these were my last moments with him, my whole body went numb. Acidic tears fell so hard, my breath was taken away by the grim reaper.  

And the whole world collapsed into a mere whisper as I held him close to my heart. He’s much more than just a lizard.

I sat, and all I did was watch. I watched as his little lungs expanded and collapsed, expanded and collapsed. It stilled the twists and turns within my stomach, and while I watched as he remained breathing, I felt as if I could breathe too. I felt…