These Skinks Had Better Learn

Looking up from my work I saw a skink climbing a screen on the porch. At first I couldn't tell if the skink was inside or outside. If it's inside, it's an emergency--for the skink. Often these lizards can find their ways indoors, but I've had a few visiting skinks who seemed unable to find their ways out and required my assistance.

This skink was inside looking out. Of course it shied when I approached, and tried to flee, but could only crawl madly across and around the edges of the screen, so close to but so far from the great green universe it wanted to escape to. And here came this gigantic hairy bag of salt water hundreds of times larger than the skink. I knew I looked to it like a monster, and spoke kindly to it, unhooking the screen on both sides and laying it down so it made a nice ramp to the outdoors. Still the skink clung to the screen. I tapped the screen. I shook the frame a little. No dice. I said, like my mother, "In or out. One or the other. Make up your mind. I don't have all day." This did it. It scrambled off.

These skinks have to understand that I run a tight ship here with no room for slackers or nervous Nellys.