I tried stomping my foot on the ground next to him, hoping that the vibration would make him move.  No good.  Then I tried pulling my car forward to give him more room to escape.  Also no good, as my right front tire was already pressed firmly against the tire stopper.  Squatting down next to the little fellow, I tried reasoning with him, keenly aware that should anyone happen upon me, they would surely think me mad for talking to my car tire.  Although the lizard didn’t crawl away, he did turn and give me his full attention, as I pleaded with him to, kindly, “Move along”.  Yet, as soon as I stopped talking, he faced forward again, laid his weary head on the ground and closed his eyes.  Ahhh!

“No.  No,” I told him.  “That won’t do at all.   Little fellow, this is not a good place for you to take a nap.”
Upon hearing my voice again, he, slowly, opened his eyes and, lethargically, turned his head in my direction, as if begging me to let him rest.  Hmmm…. What to do?  Looking around, I found a long stick that I thought I might use to, gently, persuade him to move away from my tire so I could back my car out.  Not wanting to hurt the little guy, I tapped the stick right behind him.  No good.  He had no intention of moving.  In fact, if I wasn’t mistaken, I think I was, actually, boring him with my antics.  Taking a deep breath, I resolved that I was going to have to nudge him with the stick.  I did, and he, lazily, opened one eye, as if to say do you mind?

Allllrighty, then.  This wasn’t going at all according to my humanitarian plan.  Seemed I was going to have to step up my efforts if I was to ever get home without crushing the little fellow.  On all fours, now, I looked him squarely in the eye and said, “Sorry, guy, but you’ve got to move.”

In response, he, purposefully, turned his back to me.  Well!  How rude!  Throughout this ordeal, I had noticed several individuals, returning to their cars, give me, the crazy woman on her hands and knees, on the filthy asphalt, talking to her car tire, the most peculiar looks before doubling their pace to get away from me.  Great!  Just great!  Now my fellow club members, who already suspected that I might be a bit odd, had all the proof they needed to rest their case against my sanity.

Deciding it was time to put an end to this, I, gingerly, nudged the lizard’s rear end with my stick, apologizing in the process.  It took several persuasive pokes before he scurried over to my other front tire.
“No!  Don’t hide under that tire,” I pleaded. 

Having settled, snuggly, against my tire, the lizard looked back at me and actually, looked like he was contemplating my plea.  Damn!  Do lizards think?  Not sure, but not wanting to miss the possibility that he might be able to, I leaned farther under the car so he could fully, see my face and gave him my most winning smile. 
Holding my smile for just a beat longer than I thought was sane, I broke into outright joyous laughter when my little friend showed his appreciation, crawling out from under my tire and up into the nearby plants.  Mission accomplished!  One more insect-eating lizard safe and sound in the world. 

Image by _e.t via Flickr

Ha!  My patience paid off.  And I was still able to make it home, shower and was ready to go to dinner with the rest of my troops, where we all had a delightful time.