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As I drove away from my dance class last night I noticed something fluttering from my windscreen wiper. I figured it was probably a leaf that was caught but the next time I stopped at an intersection I peered through the glass was a little distraught to see a baby gecko hanging on for dear life, his little tail sticking up and flapping in the breeze. He was so small and so brave, clinging onto the car. I very seriously contemplated turning around and going back to where my car had been parked so he could hop off and go join his family again.

But seriously, it’s a gecko. I’m fairly sure being transplanted from one side of the city to the other is not going to do him any great harm. Or will it? What if geckos are really territorial? We have a veritable squadron of the things around our house. They make a valiant attempt at keeping the moth and mosquito populations down (although sadly, I think they’re losing that particular battle). What if my little hitch-hiker scuttled off my car last night after I got home and found himself the target of a gang-attack by the locals?

Of course it just struck me that it’s entirely possible he hitched a lift all the way into town from my house in the first place so it may not be an issue. Perhaps he just went along for the ride.  Yes, I think I shall stick with that theory.  That way I can imagine that when he got back here there was a big welcoming party for him from his older brothers and sisters and he spent the night telling stories of his big adventure. He will become known as Stowaway Stan and future generations will remember him as the Gecko that Saw The World.

Yes, I think I like that ending the best.

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