HELP ME - CENTRAL

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The love for all living creatures is the most noble attribute of man.  ~Charles Darwin

Every year at least one of our non-human family member dies. This is the price we pay for having so many dogs, cats, fish, and other critters. This year we lost Napoleon. Napoleon was a chamelon. My son purchased him when he was very young and less than two inches long from a local breeder.  He lived with my son while he was away at college and grew from a little thing that could sit on one finger into a big beautiful boy. When my son returned home, Napoleon took up residence in the room where I have my desk. Sitting at my computer, I could see Napoleon out of the corner of my eye, perched on a branch close to the light in his cage as if it was a beam of sunshine. He tried to be inconspicious, because that is what Chamelons do, but with his unique look and furitive moves, he drew your attention. He did a good job of blending in with the background, but his eyes...when he wasn't napping...often gave him away.

     Napoleon was a sight to behold. His color would change with his location in the cage or with his mood. As he grew, his skin would shed, which gave him a scary demeanor. You couldn’t say Napoleon was cuddly or affectionate, but he was a good companion. I believe we shared the same taste in music. With Napoleon in the room, I never felt alone. I could hear him rustling the leaves on his plants as he moved about the cage, especially if he was in the process of hunting for crickets. The fact that he required live food, crickets and mealy worms, was pretty much the only thing I didn't like about him. I would often leave the room when it was meal time.

     Although I never held Napoleon and never made an attempt to touch him (my son fed him and cleaned his cage), I believe we had a bond that can only exist between animals and humans.  When a stranger approached his cage, Napoleon would hiss and puff himself up in order to scare off the perceived threat of danger. However, when I opened his cage to water his plants, he would look at me with eyes that rolled around in several directions, but didn't indicate in any way that he felt threatened. I think he knew I would't hurt him and he tolerated my intrusion into his space. 

     This spring we began to notice that Napoleon was beginning to lose weight. He was still eating, but he wasn't as quick to approach his prey and the skin began to hang loosely on his body. Napolean was getting old. The lifespan of a chameleon is five to seven years and Napolean was over six years old. My son held crickets close to Napoleon's mouth and tried different "foods" hoping to entice him to eat, but his decline continued. One morning Napoleon didn't open his eyes when I turned on his light and, as the minutes ticked by, he didn't move from his perch on the branch.

     Napoleon is buried in our garden. The cage stands empty in the corner of the room as if waiting for Napoleon's return.  Even though months have passed, when I enter the room I still expect to see the light on in the cage and hope to catch a glimpse of Napoleon staring at me with his wandering eyes. I am constantly amazed by how much I miss him.

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