I have no idea why only the beginning part of my article appeared.  This
should be the complete version.

I Killed My Best Friend

By Phil Scovell






     I was born and raised in Des Moines, Iowa.  Every year, my
parents took us to the Iowa State Fair.  As a little boy it was an
amazing place to visit.  The rides on the Midway, the snow cones,
the hot dogs, the farm animals, the tractor pulls, the full sized
replica of a cow carved from butter and displayed behind a glass
refrigerated showcase, the fireworks, the balloon man, the
demolition derby car races, and the special guests that always
came to the Iowa State Fair defied a little boys imagination.

     I was only about 2 years old at the time, maybe 3 perhaps,
when Roy Rogers came to the fair.  Following his performance, he
came around the fence and as thousands of us stuck our little
hands through the wires, he shook hands.  As my sister held me up,
I actually got to touch his sleeve, believe it or not, and I
remember it as though it were yesterday.

     We never spent much money at the fair because dad said
everything was too expensive.  Just going, however, was always a
thrill because there were many free things to see.

     The most exciting experience I ever had at the fair became a
annual tradition.  We were walking down one of the sidewalks on
our way to find our car and to go home, when we innocently passed
a man on the sidewalk selling something.  I never even paid any
attention to what he was selling because, as I said, we often
didn't get much at the fair.  I was the closest to him and the
man reached over and placed a small green lizard on my right
shoulder.  It had a string loosely tied about its neck and there
was a safety pin tied to the other end of the string.  The
salesman quickly pinned the chameleon to my shirt and said, "Say
little feller.  That looks great on you.  Wouldn't you like for
your dad to buy you this little lizard as your pet?  They are only
a dollar.  Surely your dad can afford a dollar."  I had never been
so excited in my life.  I don't recall if I began jumping up and
down but I felt like it inside.  I began begging my dad like never
before, or after, to please let me have him for a pet.  That old
sidewalk barker sure knew his stuff.  There was no way my dad
could say no so I went home with a little box that had a clear
plastic window in the front, air holes punched in the sides of the
small box, and my first chameleon lizard inside.  I was in love.

     From then on, I was always asking how soon before the fair
came back to town.  "I want another lizard.  Can you buy me
another lizard this year, dad?" I always asked long before the
fair came.  I wanted to make certain dad promised to get me one.
They never lived through the cold Iowa winters so I had to get a
new one each summer.

     I soon determined that dad liked the chameleons as much as I
did because he always helped me take care of them.  He even got an
encyclopedia out and read up on what they eat and how to care for
the chameleons and that just wasn't like my dad at all.

     The first one we brought home, dad pinned the safety pin at
the other end of the string to one of mom's artificial plants she
kept in a bowl.  Dad had read that the lizards lick the dew from
the leaves of plants for water so he would sprinkle water on that
artificial plant and we would watched the lizard lick the plastic
leaves.

     The next year, we tried something new.  With the new lizard
in hand, we opened a side window, one on either side of our living
room picture window, and let the lizard climb onto the screen.
Pulling the window down, he could stay in their all day eating
flies until he just couldn't stand it any longer.  He also could
not get out unless we opened the inside window so we removed his
string leash.  He could then climb up and down the screen as much
as he desired.

     I played with my chameleon frequently.  I would ride my bike
out in the street in front of our home.  It was a quiet side
street and I would pin the lizard to one of my shirt pockets and
stick him inside.  As I would ride around, he would climb out of
my pocket and up my chest until he was partially beneath my
collar.  On one occasion, I was riding my bike and wearing a dark
rusty red shirt.  That lizard changed to the deepest color of red
I had ever seen before and you could hardly notice him peaking out
from under my collar as I rode because his color was so much like
my shirt.

     I experimented with the various colors my chameleons could
imitate.  I could get them, by placing them on different colors,
to change from a very pale green to a deep dark, almost black at
times, leafy green.  I learned various ways to change his color
from a light tan to a dark earthy umber brown.  As I already
mentioned, even placing him on something dark red would make him
slowly change colors to almost a copperish mahogany.  My dad
taught me that God made them this way so they could hide from
their predators.  "Predators?" I said; puzzled.  Dad explained
that meant other animals that wanted to eat them.  "Eat them?
Like what," I said with some alarm.  Dad explained bigger lizards,
maybe snakes, and things like that.  "I won't let my lizard get
eaten by anything," I vowed.

     Every summer became more exciting than the prior.  I would
get a new lizard, learn more about them, and take him everywhere I
went.  I even took him in the car once to Kansas when mom and I
drove down to see her sisters.  He loved the trip and the hot
weather.  He especially enjoyed the Kansas flies for supper I
discovered.

     One day, when I was still quite young, I learned my lizard
could run.  That wasn't the word for it.  They could dark quickly
from one side of the room to the other in a split second.  My
lizards became my number one hobby.  I studied them carefully and
knew how they could stay in one position for hours, if need be,
their thin skin slowly changing colors to match their current
environment.  After remaining what appeared to be motionless for
prolonged periods of time, you suddenly realized they had actually
been moving closer to their prey all the time.  Flicking their
long sticky tongue out, they would snag an unsuspecting fly and
make it disappear so fast, you could hardly believe there had even
been a fly there in the first place.

     When I discovered how fast they could move, I took him out of
the window one day without his string collar.  We had gotten so we
never used the string collar much any more since he lived all
summer in the closed window where he could keep the window frame
clean of flies and spiders for us.

     Getting on my knees, I would hold my lizard in my hand and
slowly place him on the floor.  I would speak to him and encourage
him to run.  Eventually, he realized he wasn't hooked to his
string and he would dart across the room.  I scrambled after him
on hands and knees as fast as I could go.  He'd stop, I'd pick him
up and talk to him, and then would sit him on the floor pointing
in the other direction.  He eventually would dart across the room
with me on hands and knees in hot pursuit.  Man, was I having fun.

     I can remember this day as clearly as any memory in my life.
It was fun watching my pet lizard darting back and forth in my
mother's living room, and the fact he would let me pick him up
now and hold him and talk to him was thrilling, to say the least,
to a 6 year old boy.  Then tragedy struck.

     My lizard was on the floor next to me.  I was excited and
encouraging him to, "1, 2, 3, go!"  I had to repeat it sometimes
because he didn't always run when I instructed him.  Sometimes I
might have to poke him gently in the side until he got the
message.  Bang!  He shot across the room faster than ever before
and I chased in on hands and knees.  This time, he stopped after
only a yard or so and I was going way too fast.  You guessed it.
I squashed my little friend flat as a pancake with one of my
knees.  My mother came running it to see what was wrong.  She
tried everything to console me but nothing worked.  We couldn't go
get another one because the fair had left town.  I circled the
outside of our house for hours crying and crying and repeating
over and over again, "I killed my best friend; I killed my best
friend."

     Few people could identify with such a story but to me, all
such creatures were wonderful.  Snakes, frogs, crickets, bugs of
all types, minnows, small bullheads we kept in a trash can full of
water, cats, dogs, horses, birds, rabbits, squirrels, butterflies,
dragon flies, fish of all sizes, grasshoppers, bumble bees, honey
bees, worms, caterpillars, ants, tadpoles, animals of all sizes,
and just about anything else you might want to name, I liked.  I
liked to collect them, watch them, and see how they lived.  So,
when I killed my most favorite pet of all, the chameleon, I was as
crushed as he was laying on that living room floor.

     This memory was not just mine alone; it was well known by my
whole family.  It was often mentioned during family get togethers
and it was talked about how upset I was and how I roamed around
and around the outside of our home as I cried and repeated over
and over again, "I killed my best friend."

     this memory often came to mind, too.  I never disliked it as
a memory but it was the deep sorrow I felt as a little boy killing
the thing that I loved so much.  Still, I never thought there was
anything wrong with this memory.  After all, it was just a memory
and it had been an accident.  Then why did the memory return to my
thoughts hundreds of times over the years?

     Recently, this memory came to mind and it dawned on me that
perhaps there was something there the Lord wanted me to see.  I
briefly stopped what I was doing, and said, "Lord, is there
something in this childhood reoccurring memory I need to know
about?"  I watched the memory play out in my mind.  I saw the
carnage I had created.  I felt the hot tears, the broken heart,
and the horrible disappointment that it would be an entire year
before I could get another pet lizard.  I let myself see the
lifeless body of the tiny lizard.  I watched a little broken
hearted boy walk around and around the house as he cried and cried
wishing his little friend could come back.

     Suddenly, as I viewed the memory in my mind, Jesus said in my
thoughts, "How did you feel?"

     "Broken and alone," I said in my own thoughts woodenly.

     "Why?" I heard his question form in my thoughts.

     I knew He was not accusing me or trying to point out it was
just an accident.  That would not have, then, or now made me feel
any better.  So I looked into the memory again and saw myself in
the living room and felt the revulsion of the dead body of the
little lizard.  In my thoughts, I whispered the little thoughts of
a sadden boy, "Because I loved him."

     I know most reading this story won't believe what I'm about
to say now nor do I care.  What Jesus spoke to me at that very
moment, however, broke some bondage in my life that I never knew
existed and blocked the love Jesus has for me.  when Jesus asked
me why, I realized the pain I felt as a little boy was a golden
opportunity for the Enemy to plant bad seed, that is, a lie of
some kind in a little boy's thoughts.  So I looked around in the
memory and saw the truth for what it was.  I loved my little
lizard as only a little boy could.  No one really cared how much I
loved my pet lizard.  At least I thought no one cared.  When I saw
what the Enemy was trying to destroy, the love a little boy had in
his heart for something as ugly as a lizard, I heard Jesus say, "I
loved him, too."

     As you read this simple child's story of how one of his pets
died, and for whose death he was responsible, it would be easy to
miss the point of the story.  Yes, it is true that Jesus loves all
his creation.  How could He not as the Creator of all things.
When he spoke to me as I dug into the painfulness of this memory,
I saw the little boy in the living room, his pet dead at his feet,
but I also saw Jesus standing to the side of that little boy,
bending over and saying, "I loved him, too."  He meant, of course,
"I loved him, too, just like you loved him."  The words Jesus
spoke in my mind, however, were far beyond His love for that tiny
lizard.  Jesus was saying, "I love you, little boy, and I love
what you love.  I want to be with you.  I want to do what you do.
I want to be your friend.  I want to love you."

     17  Herein is our love made perfect, that we may have
boldness in the day of judgment: because as he is, so are we in
this world.
18  There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear:
because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in
love,  (First John 4:17-18).