02/04/2026
Eight years ago, I got a birthday present I didn’t actually want.
Suzanne had spent weeks talking about how cool it would be to have a bearded dragon. So the morning of my birthday, we somehow ended up at a reptile store—and I somehow ended up with one as a pet.
We named her Minerva.
I was apprehensive at first. I didn’t know the first thing about owning a lizard. Everything felt fragile and technical. I remember wondering if I was going to mess it up. And beyond that… what was the point? She wasn’t going to greet me at the door or curl up next to me.
Those first few weeks, I mostly just watched her. This little dinosaur living in my home. I learned what she liked, what she didn’t. Got used to the rhythm of caring for her. And slowly, she stopped feeling like something I had to take care of… and started feeling like mine.
She had opinions. She’d scratch at the glass when she wanted out. She had favorite spots, favorite foods, a stubbornness that made no sense for something so small. She was affectionate, just not in the way I expected.
Then COVID hit.
All of a sudden, she wasn’t just a pet. She was structure. A reason to get up, to care about something outside of myself. Evenings were spent building obstacle courses out of empty beer boxes or watching her explore a crate of panic-bought potatoes.
Minerva taught me what it means to love something that doesn’t show affection the way you expect. And once I understood that, I started to see it everywhere—in all the small, strange ways she became part of our lives.
Loving her was finding myself amongst the weirdos at the reptile store… and accepting I was one of them.
Loving her was knowing folks would demand to have her come out whenever we had people over.
Loving her was letting her roam free, only to find her stretched out on the warm WiFi router.
Loving her was sneaking her in and out when the landlord came by.
Loving her was routinely finding Suzanne asleep, Minerva curled up on her chest.
And loving her was rushing her to the vet, making sure she could pass peacefully.
I’ll miss my bearded dragon—the birthday present I never knew I needed.
Rest in peace, Minnie
