Inspired by Makenna Lee's* adventure of getting her dream pet beardie in November of 2020. Illustrations by Makenna and her sister, Aubrey.

* Pen name: Drake Blackwood

    Living at the pet store is not as amazing as it seems - or at least, it wasn’t - not when I was there. The book you are holding in your paws, claws, hooves, flippers, or hands, is the diary of me, Kricket, spelled with a K - although I was not named until later in the story. Before I was named, I was called nameless. I know, right? Not even capitalized!

    Some bearded dragons are lucky enough to live in a pet store where they get the honor of being named. That isn’t the case where I lived. Now listen - or read - carefully, because I am about to tell you my entire life story; well, most of it anyway.

    I pushed hard against the soft shell with my little snout. I was weak when I was young, so it took a few tries to finally break free. I pushed my scaley head out of my shell and opened my watery bug eyes for the first time. The light dawned on me. This light was the light of a basking bulb. A handful of other newborn beardies like me scurried across hatched and unhatched eggs. A foot slapped across my face. I shook my head and blinked, coming back to myself. I stuck out my pink, slimy tongue and touched it to the edge of my shell. It was safe. I emerged from my shell and started hopping around the eggs like the others. 

    I slammed my face into something hard. I fell back and looked in front of me. There stood a near-to-transparent beardie. I crouched down and let out a small hiss. The other beardie did the same. I cocked my head and realized it was copying me. Then I took notice that it was me, a reflection of me. I pawed against the thick glass. A few other beardies were doing the same, so I kept going.

    Two beardies left us. They were both bought by a group of customers. We got a lot of visitors, which is also known as a lot of begging: “Mommy, can I get one?”

    The beardies were replaced by more beardies, which were bought and had to be replaced. It went on like this. Some beardies named themselves. I was not one of those. I chose to wait. To wait to be chosen by some special person who would give me some special name. 

    But that day never came. So I had to go out and find a name for myself, not to mention finding that “special someone” as well. So I packed up and left. I ventured out into the wilderness. (But we're not there yet.) 

    I listened carefully. The chirping noise was close by, I could feel it. I slowly crawled over. And there, behind the plastic tree, was lunch. I launched at the cricket. It, unfortunately, hopped away just in time. I jumped a second time, this time my tongue catching onto the cricket. I chomped victoriously, as I listened to the cricket’s last cry. I swallowed and licked my chops. I found a few other 

                           crickets, which were easier to catch. Some

                           took a couple more attempts.             

    That night was long. But this was the last night I would be spending at the pet store. For this was the night that I had the magnificent idea of escaping.

    Early in the morning, when all was quiet, I crawled from the cave and scurried over to the glass wall. I clawed at the thin glass. I was doing this for a while. Then, I had an idea. I reared back and charged forward, my head down. I slammed against the glass. There was a cracking noise.

    “It’s working!” I gasped. This would have worked much better if I were a male. (I assumed they had harder heads.) I kept ramming into the glass over and over again until, finally, I ran right through the wall. I landed on the cold floor. 

     It took a moment to adapt to my surroundings. I hopped up to a shelf and looked up. There were some bearded dragon costumes hanging up on metal poles. I started to climb.

I wouldn’t do that if I were you.

    I looked over and saw a goldfish in his own plastic container.

“Almost...there!” 

    No, like, behind you, there-

        “I...have to,” I grunted,

    reaching for a costume.                  

    “If you don’t mind, I’m trying to concentrate,” I interrupted.

But-

    I grabbed the costume and dropped back to the ground. I ripped off the hat and suit and quickly dressed into them, and then I grabbed the suitcase. I climbed up and crawled back into my cage and stuffed some leftover freeze-dried crickets into my suitcase. I snapped the fine suitcase shut. I hopped out of the cage, being careful not to be cut by the sharp, broken glass. 

    “See? It wasn’t that bad,” I told the goldfish.

Then it screamed,

    But behind you...

Uhhhhh….

The goldfish was breathing hard.

    “Don’t worry,” I laughed.

    I looked behind me. There was a cage. And in the cage was a snake. It was lurching itself at me, hitting its head against the glass and rearing back to continue the process. This wasn’t just any snake though. This was a ball python. I dashed away, my suitcase in claw. I put a claw on my hat to keep it from flying off. Soon enough, the snake had broken through the glass and was now hot on my tail. 

 RUN!!!

    Then I realized with horror that there were not only one but two ball pythons. I skidded to a stop and turned around to hiss. I puffed out my “beard.” This, however, did not scare the snakes. I walked up to the nearest snake and swung my suitcase, hitting its head hard. 

    The snake backed off and winced. I hissed again. A sharp pain filled my body. I looked behind me. The other snake had its jaw locked on my tail. Blood spilled on the floor. Now it was my turn to scream. I hit the snake with my suitcase as it swung me around. That just made it more angry. This left me with only one choice. I stuck my sharp nails into the snake's neck. It took a few attempts to find the right spot. The snake finally let its grip loose. I leaped away. The snake cowered and followed the other back to its cage. 

    I sighed with relief and brushed off my suit. The door lay right before me. I stood up and walked forward. I was on my way home.

    This was not as easy as I thought it would be. It rained. I hated rain. To be less specific, I hated water. It was freezing out there. But on some days the sun came out. I liked the sun. 

    Over the next few days my tail healed. I was able to walk faster. Walking fast was good when one came across roads.

    I stood in front of the rough road. Cars zoomed past me, this way and that. I held my hat onto my head. In the middle of the road was a small cement area where I could stop and rest. But I had to survive to rest. I calmed myself down and steadied my breathing. On three, I thought. One, two….I can’t do this.

    Without a three I dashed across the road, my eyes closed and my claw on my hat. The wind pushed me back but I kept going. My suitcase flew behind me. I dared not let it go. I bumped into the cement wall and staggered back. I gasped. A car raced towards me. I leapt up onto the cement block just as the car swooshed by. I groaned. Could I do that again? The road that lay before me was more harsh than the first. It was jammed with traffic. 

    I was quick to scurry under the first few cars. But then they started to move. The car behind me rammed forward. This car I knew to be a van, the most dangerous breed, other than trucks. I held my claws up, surrendering. 

    The car zoomed forward. My suitcase got caught on one of the pipes underneath the car. Next thing I knew, I was flying away with the car. I was captured.    

    Cars are very mean creatures. They growl and smash things for a living. I was thinking they were live creatures until I rode in one. Then I knew they were machines. (But that hasn’t happened yet.) I let my suitcase loose and instantly regretted it. The car drove away with my suitcase. I ran after the car. “Give it back!” I hollered. The car, surprisingly, gave it back. The suitcase flew off of the pipe and slammed into me, pushing me to the ground. I scurried out of the way of a car and hopped off the road. I stumbled onto the grass and sighed with relief, just like I had after the snakes had run away with fear. 

    How much more evil would I come across?

    Then, to my horror, I heard a deep bark near a picnic table. I turned to see a black lab, licking its chops. It was hungry. For me.

    I hate predators; dogs just happen to be the worst of them. Especially chihuahuas. Thankfully, I only ever came across one chihuahua. (But not yet.)

    The black lab pulled against the leash that was securely hooked to a table. The family at the table didn’t notice me. But the dog very much did. This could be easy, I thought. I just had to stay out of the dog’s reach. But that didn’t really work out. 

    Max was on the verge of gulping me when a ball flew through the air. Max cocked his head. His tail swerved back and forth. He left me alone and ran after the ball.

Max, nooo!

called the humans.

    The dog snapped at the leash, ripping the fabric. He gnawed at the rip in the leash and finally broke free. 

    I broke into a run and dashed across the green field. The dog that I now knew as Max chased me. 

    “Hey! Dog! I need that!” called a man with a long wooden bat. He threw off his helmet and chased after Max. He was soon followed by the humans at the picnic table. I sighed once again. I had made it. I never wanted anything to do with any kind of baseball, for that man had almost squashed me - twice to be exact. 

    That night, I stayed under the abandoned picnic table. I nibbled on the crickets I had taken with me. I tried to savor them. It didn’t really work out. My suitcase and I shared a wonderful night. I called him Kevin. We grew to be best friends over the night. We watched the stars together. I smiled and put a claw around Kevin.

    Tomorrow I would face the biggest danger of all. I would have to make a terrible sacrifice. But I didn’t know that yet.