30Moon Rock had gotten way too big for me to carry on my shoulders. Dad wanted nothing to do with him, so we couldn’t go out of town without getting an iguana sitter.
Other than that he was a good pet. Until one day, for no reason whatsoever, he bit me. I went to pick him up and he wasn’t looking and I guess it surprised him. His tail whipped around and his tongue flicked as he bit me in the arm with a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth.
It was a terrible gash, like an open mouth without a tongue, right on the top of my forearm. I went screaming into Mom’s room, blood dripping from my arm, crying, scared, pleading. “Mom, it’s all open, my arm’s all open.”
“Oh honey, oh God.” Mom grabbed a clean pillowcase from atop the dryer and wrapped my arm in it. The blood soaked all the way through the
