In Park Slope, Brooklyn, on a week-day afternoon a woman was trying to sell her iguana for twenty-five dollars. She was giving it up for a more traditional pet, like a cat who didn’t need to be constantly put out in the sun to digest its meal but could do so underneath the bed.
"It tastes even better than chicken," she says. "Plus, it’s healthier, because I never fed it grain loaded with chemicals. It ate what I had." But I couldn’t imagine them sharing French fries and a hamburger. She looked like the "heavy on ketchup" type. Whereas, it didn’t.»
"I’d eat it myself," she said. "But it’s hard to eat what you once loved." I’d think that you also wouldn’t want what you once loved to be eaten by strangers.
Luckily, she had no buyers.
They say pets soon look like their owners. I’m happy to say the iguana looked nothing like her. Though, it was hard to get a clear picture of what it really looked like. For now the dominating message its facial expression was trying to convey was, "I’d be much happier on someone else’s shoulder."
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