Nicodemus -- All I have are bones and memories

Nicodemus was my pride and joy. He was a Bearded Dragon, and I bought him at a reptile show in late 1995, to the best of my memory. He was a tiny baby -- from head to tail, he could sit crossways on my palm and not hang over. He was inquisitive and cute from the beginning.

'Nicodemus' means "victory of the people", but he was named after the rat in the animated movie Secret of NIMH.  He was charismatic and intelligent - although he thought the cats were big hairy lizards and often tried to impress them by displaying mating behavior.  This (oddly enough) frightened them into hysterics.  Yes, the food chain got a bit convoluted in my home.

I think it was around 1995 when I went to the reptile show with Christie. I had wanted a snake (specifically a ball python) for several years, and I found Morgon that day. Then Christie and I came upon the display of baby bearded dragons. I fell in love, and after getting a quick rundown on their care, I picked him out. He was so small that he fit lengthwise across my palm. He was so small that I had a hard time keeping him in crickets. His appetite was enormous -- and he was so funny to watch, running after the crickets, snapping and grabbing and chomping.

I didn't try to handle him for quite a while -- he was so small that I was terrified of hurting him. I would put my hand in the tank and lightly stroke his soft spines and rub his head, but I didn't take him out until he was significantly grown. I was worried how much interspecies trouble I was going to have -- amazingly, the answer was none. I only took him out when I was there to supervise him; other than that he was in his tank 24/7. (Except for the occasional harrowing escape -- like the time I couldn't find him and was digging around under the couch and came upon the cold, fat, coiled form of Morgon, whom I had not realized was also out. I freaked out, hauled her from underneath the couch, and frantically but gently palpitated her to try and figure out if she had eaten my baby. GOD, that was traumatizing. I don't even remember where he showed up that time, I just remember the relief.)

The cats liked Nic -- they thought he was a tiny, deformed, hairless cat with a TERRIBLE skin condition. He thought they were enormous furry lizards. (And hel, Maggot's at least half dog, and Lucifer is a Labrador Retriever who stumbled into the wrong line...) I would often let him out of his tank to bask in the sun. Many afternoons he sat quite amiably on the windowsill, with a cat on each side of him. Or all of them would lay out in front of the porch screen door. None of the cats before Gagme ever gave him a problem. (She was convinced that the latter third of his tail was a chew toy.)

Perhaps because he thought that he and the cats were the same type of creature, he played with their cat toys. Specifically, the hot pink fuzzball on the end of a string. I can't imagine what racial memory this stirred in him, but evidently there is something in Austrailia that is hot pink, fuzzy, and delicious. I would bob it outside his tank and he would go nuts trying to get at it. His jaws would drop, his tongue would be trying to grab it through the glass, he would bounce around on his hind legs trying to climb the glass... it was nearly the funniest damn thing I've ever seen.

The funniest had to be the aforementioned mating behaviour. When Bearded Dragons want to show their desire for a suitable partner, they darken their throat, open their mouths, and inflate their throat pouch. Now, I'm not sure what response he was looking for, but a bemused or horrified furry stare was not it, because he would have to advance to phase 2. In phase 2, he would stand up as high as he could and RUN STRAIGHT AT THE CAT OF HIS CHOICE. Well, more of a sinuous waddle, really, but you know what I mean. It was pee-your-pants funny.

Nicodemus travelled to Oklahoma with me for Christmas -- more than once, I think. I was terrified to leave him alone for that long, so I just brought him with me. I got a microwavable gel pack and heated it up, wrapped it in a towel, put it on my chest and plopped him down on it. He never gave me a bit of trouble -- in fact, he liked looking out of the car window. He liked running around outside in Stillwater. I remember one of those Oklahoma winter days, where the air is cold and the sunlight is thin, but you can sit outside in the crunchy dead grass for hours in comfort. Nic enjoyed the hel out of that day -- I had a harness for him, so he couldn't get lost.

Nicodemus died of a respiratory infection the Monday after Thanksgiving 2000. He was feeling poorly the week before -- I noticed he had lost a little weight and was acting droopy. It had been cold, and I thought perhaps he was having a hard time adjusting to the winter. Sometimes he would get finicky about his food or go off his food for a while, so this wasn't completely unusual. But he was breathing a little funny that week. I could have saved him, and I'll always have to live with that.

When we returned, he was dehydrated and very non-responsive. I got some fluid in him and kept him warm, and Monday found a vet and took him in. He was so thin and so dehydrated, it broke my heart. I couldn't stop crying. I left him there, with a very kind and gentle vet.

He died while I was driving home.

For some reason, Harley was around, so she drove me up to the vets to say goodbye to him. I was having him cremated, but I could NOT let him go without saying goodbye. They let me spend some time with him alone.

When I got the cedar box back, I had to open it. I had to see. When I saw Nicodemus' bones and ashes in a plastic bag, I damn near passed out.

I wasn't prepared to see recognizable bones, or to hold his tiny jawbone in my hand. I poured his remains from the bag into his cedar box with 3 handfuls of sand from his home with his bones, so if he wanted to visit he would feel at home. I bought him a tiny rectangular tank, filled it with sand from his home, and put his box in there. I also have a votive holder for burning incense, and a dark purple candle with spirals that I light when I think of him or pray for an animal. I leave his box unlocked, and sometimes I leave the lid slightly ajar.

So I have a little wooden box with the bones and ashes of my beloved, in a glass house filled with light.

This was his original shrine, showing the box and candle. This was the original entry I wrote about his passing.