Many writers have shared their thoughts with the public:

"There is something delicious about writing the first words of a story. You never quite know where they'll take you." - Beatrix Potter

"The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say." - Anaïs Nin

"Sharing your writing, being enlarged by others' writing, is what makes you feel famous." - Gretchen Bernabei

"Writing is not an amusing occupation. It is a combination of ditch-digging, mountain-climbing, treadmill and childbirth." - Edna Ferber

"Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing." - Ben Franklin

"One must be drenched in words, literally soaked in them, to have the right ones to form themselves into the proper pattern at the right moment." - Hart Crane

"There are three rules for writing. Unfortunately, no one can agree what they are." - W. Somerset Maugham

War of the Reptiles

She’d been trapped inside for two hours now, watching every move of the reptile through the window amazed at how still it remained. That was until she opened the door, which would prompt most animals to retreat, but not this lizard; he had issues. Rather than scurrying away, it commenced pacing back and forth in front of the door as if a soldier on guard duty. But unless she wanted to be committed into full time care, she wasn’t going to describe that trick to anyone. “They’re just lizards,” her sensible self unnecessarily kept reminding her. “They won’t hurt you.” But being rational wouldn’t help her run any faster.

It wasn’t as if she had always been this frightened by lizards, well, too frightened to catch and discard them anyway. Hadn’t she single handed trapped that one on the back patio? Using their tendency to imitate stone statues she had successfully imprisoned her opponent under an upturned bucket. Admittedly, not actually having a battle plan to follow the initial strike, it took a while to work out how to proceed, but she eventually managed to slip a flat shovel under the bucket and carefully but shakily lifting the prisoner with the shovel, carried it across the road. Grateful for no traffic or neighbours in their front yard, she unceremoniously tossed the thing, bucket and all into the scrub.

Perhaps he’d been a scout and the return of the lizards was revenge by The Family, although mafia lizards were a stretch even for Dorothy. Regardless of why they were attracted to her back yard, they’d returned with a vengeance.

With some almost a metre in length and able to move faster than their stumpy legs should have allowed, Dorothy wasn’t believing anyone who said this particular specimen was harmless. And she hadn’t forgotten the lizard versus magpie battle on the back fence. Like two cars meeting head on in a single lane street, they’d faced off, neither giving way until the lizard charged without warning. She wondered what it’s zero to full speed time was. Had the bird not been able to fly away, it would have put itself into reverse very quickly.

But as intimidating as the feisty creatures were, the home invasion had gone on long enough. The last straw was using her favourite pot plant as a sun deck and eating whatever greenery hadn’t been pressed into the soil by their Buddha like bellies. This was her garden and she was going to take it back! That sounded embarrassingly melodramatic even in her own head. There were three squatters that she knew of, but the one she called Larry was the biggest and the most malevolent; he had evil in his beady eyes and well, just a plain bad attitude!

The vibrating critter repellers she’d installed in the garden worked for a while but now the melodic buzz just appeared to put them to sleep.

Gentle measures were no longer appropriate, she needed weapons. But with no gun locker or machetes on hand she’d have to improvise. She wouldn’t waste her time with the garden hose, she’d tried that before. Not only was the water pressure too feeble to even dislodge the mozzies on his back, the little devil seemed to mock her, raising his head to enjoy the spray on his neck.

Two dismantled brooms later she stepped through to the garage to seek more weapons, preferably long range, and returned with the telescopic tree lopper, the water blaster, a fishing rod and a scoop net. She had absolutely no idea what she was going to do with the arsenal other than maybe throw them, but short of actual guns it was the best she could come up with.

She looked like a bargain basement armed assassin, but she realised it would take more force than her sixty year old shoulders could muster to penetrate the armour like reptilian skin even if any of her weapons had piercing capacity. So she would need some defensive clothing in case her hardware store weapons failed and they attacked.

She found a hat; the thing had claws and was known to hang out in trees and drop like a prehistoric ninja. The multi-coloured straw style creation plastered in beer advertising wasn’t exactly standard service issue but better its claws went into the hat and not her head. She decided against utilising the handy bucket as a helmet, there were limits to the ridiculous, even for Dorothy.

Next was some creative body armour. It was slightly reminiscent of the tin man from the Wizard of Oz, but the car windscreen shade made an acceptable claw proof jacket once she’d taped it into a cylinder and cut holes into the sides for her arms. She was glad she’d bought the larger size for her four wheel drive, as it was big enough to wrap around her body. In addition to providing protection against teeth and claws, Dorothy was hoping the sun reflecting off the silver side would blur the vision of her opponent if only for a few seconds while she found a strategic position from which to launch her attack.

With the addition of some colourful gardening gloves and a pair of discarded work boots she was thinking of using as planters, she was ready for battle. Well that was after modifying the length of the broom sticks she’d stuck into the adapted utility belt. Martial arts experts never seemed to have such trouble replacing their drawn swords into their dressing gown tie which didn’t look much different to hers. Unfortunately, she’d only achieved coleslaw level with her knife skills. This could be a very short battle especially if she had to actually run. She would definitely try to avoid falling, it would be most embarrassing having to be rescued in her battle outfit; she placed her mobile phone into her pocket just in case.

She was ready to go, but not before she made sure the front, side and back doors were all unlocked in case she got cut off and had to make a run for it.

Dorothy’s war plan was simple but strategically limited; she planned to approach from the rear and herd Larry out the gate, hopefully his gang would follow. Once out of the yard, she could block any gap big enough to allow a return. She knew that while perhaps covering the ground, it didn’t cover any assault from the air via the trees. But she was still struggling with the idea of spiking the top of the fence with nails; she might be a general but she wasn’t cruel. Establishing effective ground defences was a start, she’d sort out the air space later.

Creeping out the back door as quietly as one could with sticks hanging from your waist and your hands full of other exterminator devices, she spotted Larry standing defiantly beside their favourite pot. He was staring at the back door where she had last appeared, well she thought that’s where he was looking. You couldn’t be sure with his 360 degree field of vision.

Deciding to forego the water blaster considering the logistics of power and water, she extended the tree lopper to its full length and stepped into the sunshine only to step straight back inside to get her sunglasses due to the effective reflection of her jacket. Back again and looking just that little bit more bizarre, Dorothy moved towards Larry prepared to prod him all the way out the gate. She looked determined on the outside but was feeling a bit wobbly on the inside. So far so good, he hadn’t turned around and she hadn’t tripped on her equipment. A few more steps, just a little closer.

Tap, tap. Just a little poke starting at his tail. Nothing happened. “Poke a little harder Dorothy, he’s got skin like car tyres.” So she did. And Larry did move; right up the stick towards her! She ran screaming to the back patio, threw the wonky screen door off its rollers and launched herself onto the floor, free sliding until she hit the table leg.

Unable to stand until she removed the rigid windscreen shade, she crawled on all fours back to the door and stared at Larry with all the venom she could muster, although the threat was somewhat dissipated by the image of the dishevelled geriatric wonder woman. He stared back with a triumphant, evil glare and was he actually poking out his tongue at her? Ignoring the arrogance, she was grateful there’d been no witnesses and only her pride had been injured. Not one of her best moments and not one she would repeat even if offered money for the film rights.

Okay Larry, you might be meaner and you’re definitely uglier, but I’m the one with opposing thumbs, so that makes me smarter. Game on, you cheap handbag!

She watched him waddle away and thought it was times like this that made her glad she lived on her own. Talking to a dog generally didn’t infer mental health issues but she wasn’t so sure about talking to a lizard.

Dorothy’s cousin Jack operated a sheep station out west, and relied on his working dogs as much as his farm hands to get the job done. The dogs also lacked opposing thumbs, but unlike the lizards, their lights remained on and they were always home.

It was time to visit the farm.

Three weeks later after a very productive visit with Jack, it was time for Dorothy to return home, but she wasn’t alone. Travelling with her was two of the now retired, but still capable dogs from his team of sheep mustering dogs.

Her visit had been something of a working holiday, and if her new canine companions had anything to do with it, one that would rid her of her pugnacious squatters. Dorothy entertained herself on the drive back by picturing the eviction scene, imagining Larry head down, tail up desperately trying to outrun the dogs. If she thought the recalcitrant reptile was capable of any facial expressions she would have been willing to pay for a stand by photographer when he met the boys for the first time. But she’d have to be content with enjoying the efforts of Uno and Due. Jack might be an Aussie farmer but as a token of respect to his Italian heritage, his dogs were all named numerically in Italian.

It was late by the time Dorothy and the dogs arrived home so everyone was fed, watered and bedded down for the night. Once they had completed the sniff search of their new environment, Uno and Due seemed more than happy to spend the night on the comfy pillows in the garage, discovering the outdoors would wait until tomorrow. Before drifting off to sleep she made a mental list of the jobs for the next day. The lawn would need mowing, the automatic sprinklers would have kept the grass and garden in good order. But she needn’t have wasted the water.

Dorothy stepped outside the next morning to be confronted by what was left of her garden. It could have been the scene of a drunken teenage street party only with lizards instead of people. By the look of the pavers, which were now a few shades darker and decorated with droppings, Larry and co had invited the entire neighbourhood population of lizards, and the remaining nibbled stalks of her plants had apparently been the aperitifs.

She could hear Uno and Due getting agitated, they had caught the scent of the vandals when she opened the door. But she’d have to clean up before she let them out; the canines would go ballistic with the smells of the invaders and she didn’t want any broken hips, hers included.

It was early and Dorothy completed the clean-up with no obstruction from Larry, he rarely presented himself until later in the day. She let the dogs into the yard, and they immediately went into sensory overdrive with the scent of the lizards. Their excitement escalated with every sniff of a plant the creatures had insulted, they’d be well primed by the time Larry showed up.

Dorothy took the boys back inside and set up the yard. She methodically covered any gaps big enough for the lizards to escape once the dogs had them on the run, then brought in the traps Jack had made especially for the job. They were similar to possum traps but shaped a little like the pens the sheep were herded into with a wider opening and attached hinged gates either side of the wire box.

It was 4pm, Larry’s witching hour, and she let the dogs out. Their noses started twitching immediately, but this time there was no frantic scoping of the area, they were on the job. Instinctively, they split up to cover each side of the yard, quietly and efficiently establishing the exact location of their prey.

Uno watched his partner flush out the lizard and begin the dance while he flanked from a distance, slowly decreasing the circumference of their roundup circle until both dogs were just a metre away from Larry on either side.

They were in charge and Dorothy hardly had to give a direction although she was kind of keen to try out what she had learned on the farm. She settled for some gentle encouragement and an occasional “walk up” command when Larry went into statue mode. The dogs were experts and knew exactly what they were doing and she had no objection to the usually discouraged little nip on the lizard’s tail to encourage some movement. Jack had done a great job of training them, using a variety of animals on the farm to prepare the boys for the great lizard roundup. To Uno and Due mustering lizards would be no stranger than rounding up their unconventional practice animals.

Dorothy was standing by, ready to close the gates once Uno and Due had herded Larry into the box. They did it! She locked the gates and couldn’t resist getting down to eye level with her nemesis and yep, she poked out her tongue at him.

Now, never in her wildest dreams would Dorothy have thought she would be grateful to Larry.

But, as it turned out, thanks to him, she found a new interest in life to which bowls and bingo could never compare and was never lonely again thanks to her new best canine friends.

Rather than again littering the scrub with the captured creature, Dorothy decided to take Larry to the animal shelter who were so impressed with her creativity and humane treatment of the lizard they asked if she could assist others with the same problem.

Not only did she help neighbours to evict their own Larry Lizards, she turned the humanitarian lizard evacuation into a profitable business.

Larry looked quite handsome featured on the Reptilian Roundup business card.