There’s a children’s book about a child who demands and eventually receives a pet iguana; this book has *ruined lives.* Iguanas, I promise you, do not want to be pets. They do not want to be touched, picked up, cuddled, or talked to. They want to be left the fuck alone and never see a human, ever. Baby iguanas are great survivors, however, and manage to suppress their human-hating instincts long enough to get us to buy them and build them elaborate homes and feed them into adulthood, when they will begin biting anyone who lovingly extends a vulnerable finger.