It all comes crashing down

I’ve got three pets in my apartment: a beta (Marshal), iguana (Peapod), and dog (Cooper). Something happened yesterday that made me take a step backwards to think about life for a while (for a little bit). Anyone who has ever had an iguana knows that they aren’t the brightest of beasts. I love Peapod, but he tries to eat anything animate or inanimate – that has a splash of colour to it. Even after four years of confinement (and he does come out often for walks and adventures) his terrarium doesn’t make sense to him. He doesn't "get" it (and he shouldn't - he's a wild beast!). If something colorful finds itself between him and his barrier – he’ll ignore his boundaries and try to eat it through the glass. He also tries to eat my ties whenever he’s given the opportunity. When I let him crawl around my office (where his terrarium is located) he has free range of space to roam, books to climb, and things to try to eat. If he’s out long enough, sadly, he returns to his terrarium, somehow scaling the glass that he tries and tries to escape day after day. This struck me. The terrarium is his world—its home no matter how much he hates being there sometimes. He’s truly a creature of habit. When I was cleaning yesterday afternoon I broke his “world.” While shifting some of the branches inside of the tank I shattered the glass on the right-hand side. Glass was all over the place. I made a mad-dash to a pet store to get a new one, but alas, despite his opportunity to escape he remained planted on his heat rock. I started to think about life a little bit: what’s the difference between the world and a terrarium? The world is certainly larger, but essentially we are trapped. If that isn’t fatalism—what is?! It’s time to read. Take care.

-Dan