Black spots don’t last forever

28 Apr

“Look Dad!” – I say, as I point to the rock wall next to me. “Look! It’s Rocky!”

With a swift sneaky-ness, he hurries over towards the rock wall.

“Where is he?” I point down and he spots Rocky…. “AWWWW look it’s Rock… wait a minute…”

Now, I already knew where he was going with this, but I thought I’d give him the benefit of the doubt, but I might have as well just landed on the $1.00 mark on the Big Wheel Spin.

“Nooooo, this isn’t Rocky” As he picks him up off the rock wall. “No, I remember, Rocky was black over here.” He points to the end of its tail. “So this couldn’t be Rocky, because I know what he looks like annnnd that isn’t him”.

“Ugh, Dad, you know Rocky is a Chameleon…..”

“Noooo that isn’t him..” He interrupts.

“annnnnnd duh, Chameleon’s CHANGE THEIR COLORS….. riiiiiight.” Hoping that he would be like “oh yeah April, you know, you are right, they DO change their colors and well THIS Chameleon is a male, same size horns, same size body and EVERYTHING it possibly COULD be Rocky….” But no. He insisted that this Chameleon was not Rocky.

Now, let me explain. About two weeks ago my dad was driving home when he spotted something in the road right in front of his truck. He didn’t want to run it over so he stopped the truck and got out. He discovered a male Chameleon that was trying to cross the road {you can imagine how long it would take those slow buggas to cross, he would have surely been hit by another car who wasn’t paying attention}. So he picked up the Chameleon and took him home, he named him “Rocky”. He kept him in a box with some fruit, sticks and leaves {yeah, not exactly the ideal home, but it was close} and kept him at his house. The next day {or the one after that, I can’t remember} he arrived at my house with Rocky in the box. He then took him out of the box and proceeded to put Rocky on his head on top of his hat. Now – all I could picture was that crazy bird lady in that Home Alone movie, with all those birds and bird poop on her head. So here my dad sat on the bench outside with Rocky on his hat. That poor Chameleon. He couldn’t get off and Dad would just walk around with him on his head… he was, for lack of a better word, “attached” to Rocky, I mean he did save him.

I, on the other hand, was trying to help Rocky escape while my dad wasn’t looking. I used my stealthy skills and slowly snuck up behind him with a stick to try to lure Rocky onto it. I failed as my dad moved. I tried again. This time Rocky was reaching up and trying to grab onto the stick… “Help me!! This crazy man took me captive and is holding me hostage on this weird planet of cloth and I don’t see any bugs anywhere!!!” – I’m guessing that is what he would have said, if he could talk.

A couple of hours went by and Rocky was still on my Dad’s head. I took some pictures but can’t find the camera I took them with…

“Daaaaad, poor Rocky, you need to put him in the trees and let him be free. He needs bugs to eat and needs to be in the wild and find a mate, it’s just natural!”

“Ohhh I guess you are right, I just wanted to wait for mom to get here so we could release him together…” {As if he rescued him from a birds mouth and nourished him back to life and it was his big day to go back into the wild…}

So my dad walked over to our Hibiscus bush, he sighed and placed him in the bush. He was genuinely sad. As if his dream was to always own a Chameleon and to be buddies forever. I don’t know. But, he wondered if Rocky would stay around our house and I assured him that he probably would.

So flash back to yesterday when I spotted, what I thought was, Rocky, on the rock wall in our yard. The denial from my father that THAT Chameleon was surely not Rocky confirmed to me that my father was slightly attached to Rocky, and letting him go was hard and he vowed to always believe that even though he might never see Rocky again that he could hope….But no plain Chameleon would ever be as good as Rocky was. {Hehe}

“Nooooo that’s not Rocky! Rocky had a black, dark spot on his tail. I know, I look at his picture everyday on my computer….” Obsessed much?

“Oh okay Dad….” I just let it go. Because I truly don’t think he knew how retarded he sounded. Chameleon’s change their colors everyday…. face it!

I love my Dad, though. He is a smart man, but sometimes I know where some of my “blonde moments” come from… 😉 hehehe….



Update: My dad sent me this picture today of Rocky to prove to me he had a black spot in every picture he took.

Again, hilarious!

You have to move a Chameleon to a different location for it to change…. just saying. 😉


“This is Rocky…not that fraud you tried to pawn off on me…”

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