Milo the Bearded Dragon

It was winter in Seattle, and I was lucky to make it out of the house to finish my workday at a coffee shop/pottery studio near my sister’s apartment. The coffee was pretty good, and the food was decent. The vibe was quiet, peaceful, and kitschy—the perfect mix of stylish while also not trying too hard.

I was just about to leave when a tank with a few bearded dragons near the bathroom caught my attention. I watched them for a few minutes before a woman appeared and told me I could hold one if I wanted. I politely declined, but as if she didn’t hear me, she opened the top of the tank and grabbed one of the bearded dragons. “Here,” she said as she thrust it onto my chest to hold as if it were a baby. I was slightly frazzled but tried to play it cool as I adjusted to the scaly feeling of the reptile’s skin and claws. She said, “His name is Milo,” and disappeared to go finish spinning on the pottery wheel without another word. I stood stupidly holding Milo, not really sure what to do with the squirmy reptile I had been put in charge of.

Eventually, I made my way over to the couch so I could write. I put Milo on the couch arm next to me. I tried to write some inner feelings or prolific thoughts. But this is all I got:

I like peaceful, quiet places.
I love Seattle.
Why is everyone in this pottery studio so hot?
Would I also become hot if I did pottery on a random Thursday afternoon?
This iguana (didn’t know what he was at the time) is a pretty good hang. He is so peaceful and quiet.
Wait, I’m peaceful and quiet, am I an iguana?

Milo was insanely still, but every few minutes, he lifted his claw, slammed it down on the couch arm, and bobbed his head up and down. Then he seemed to get antsy and would leap off the couch, sometimes using my leg as a ladder, sometimes not, and make a run for it. I had absolutely no knowledge of reptile etiquette, so I would give him a few seconds to run before scooping him up and putting him back on the couch arm. I figured he needed the exercise. The cycle repeated every five minutes or so. After about an hour, Milo seemed like he was getting agitated, so I put him back in his tank with his companion. I think we are friends now? It’s hard to tell.