Long-time readers may remember that last summer our office played foster parent to a Fig, a newt from the Lower School Science Department. You could re-read all of that here and here if you were so inclined.


This summer we have Survivor, an anole from the same source. Here's how he got his name: Lower School Science Department acquired six anoles. At the end of the first week, he was the only one left. But he thrived all of last year, and when he was offered to us for summer foster care, we were pleased.


He's not particularly exciting. He's quiet. The crickets that he supposedly eat make noise. But he doesn't. And I say supposedly because although I've purchased packets of crickets every week and a half all summer long and -- under great personal stress -- inserted these bugs into the tank, I've never seen him eat. He's a little bit like a teen-age girl, I guess; they don't eat in front of anyone either. But he must eat, because the number of crickets diminishes.


He turns green. He turns brown. He turns greenish-brown. He climbs up the stick and he climbs down the stick. And every once in a while he leaps up and clings to the wire mesh at the top of the cage. That's about it.


But he must be feeling comfortable after having spent the past nine weeks with us. This morning a visitor came in and he tried to sell her car insurance.