By: Lucy Gustafson

At one point or another, I have made a detailed presentation attempting to convince my parents that I needed everything from a chinchilla to a lined seahorse. In fifth grade, my German Shepherd “phase” consisted of homemade pamphlets, care sheets, and even a letter of recommendation from my classmate. Spoiler alert: I got none of these animals.

There has never been a point in my life when I haven’t had pets, however. I grew up with dogs, fish, cats, hermit crabs, and horses at the local stable I would call my own. But pets in our house were more of a shared family effort. We always know if one of us doesn’t feed the dog dinner, someone else will (thanks to the “fed” sticky note on the fridge).

Now on my own in college, I have a pet to completely call my own: my crested gecko, BMO. I named her after the tiny, quirky, sentient video game console from my comfort show, “Adventure Time.” Like the character, my BMO seems to exist in her own little world. She is a curious creature who is also content with doing nothing.

I had never had any interest in reptiles before BMO, they weren’t even on my radar. Freshman year of college, I missed having an animal by my side. There is something so special about having a loyal companion when the world feels overwhelming. The summer before I moved into an apartment for my sophomore year of college, I decided I needed my own animal. I wanted a pet I could care for in my apartment, one that wouldn’t need a backyard or a leash. That is when I was introduced to the world of reptiles. I didn’t want to pick a reptile that met my limits, though, like avoiding live bugs and opting for freeze-dried ones if it meant forcing the animal into something unnatural. Once I discovered crested geckos, whose diet consists of fruit, I was in full research mode: 3 a.m. YouTube binges, bookmarked tabs with care sheets, and, of course, subjecting everyone in the house to my findings.

I was set on getting my crested gecko. I collected all the materials I needed for a baby crested gecko tub, soldered holes in the setup, all without ever actually telling my parents I was doing it. Once everything was ready, I walked into my house with baby BMO, and it was as if my parents didn’t believe it until they saw it. My dad had a mix of a disappointed look and a smirk, practically saying, “Of course she did.” I think that was the moment he realized I was officially an adult who didn’t need to run animal wish lists by them anymore.

Bringing home this tiny reptile was surreal. I had never thought my first animal would be a scaly, crepuscular, and sticky-footed creature. It was a mix of excitement and “what did I just do?” But I felt confident. I had everything planned out. I even had a book where I recorded every microscopic detail about her behavior and patterns. I was ready to be the best gecko mother I could be.

BMO in her temporary baby enclosure

I thought I had done airtight research until BMO’s first wellness checkup, where the veterinarian debunked half of what I had learned. Thankfully, this visit was before I had moved her into her flawed adult terrarium, but I realized how much misinformation there is about reptiles, and especially crested geckos. It is not malicious; it is simply that these animals have not been studied as pets as deeply as dogs or cats.

Crested geckos were thought to be extinct for over 100 years, until they were rediscovered in New Caledonia in the 90s. This gap in knowledge leaves crested gecko owners stuck in a grey area where every source says something different. One person will say a type of flooring is beneficial for their feet, while another person calls it “animal abuse.” You never know who to believe, and that is the most terrifying part of it all when you are caring for such a fragile creature. Reptiles are masters at hiding when something’s wrong, so if you make a mistake, you may not notice until it’s too late.

This constant balance of information and instinct is difficult yet formative. It teaches you to listen quietly. And, if you take the time to do so, you learn the animal’s behavior, appetite, and the slightest movements that could save their life.

Reptiles survive by hiding: from predators, from environmental change, and from illness. Maybe that is why we overlook them so easily. The misinformation surrounding crested geckos, and reptiles in general, mirrors the misunderstanding people have of wildlife as a whole.

BMO has taught me more patience and respect than I ever thought a little reptile could. The fact that a prey animal, whose only real defense mechanism is to drop its tail, feels safe enough to eat from my hand is one of the most amazing feelings. It is a different kind of connection than I have known with dogs or cats. Not better, not lesser, just quieter, and different.

I have always loved the companionship animals bring, but my crested gecko has taught me about a more patient kind of love, one that is not always returned in obvious ways. This is, I think, what makes it so special.

If more people took the time to understand one tiny creature, maybe we would start caring more deeply about all of them – the loud, the quiet, and everything in between.