The gnawing woke me up…again. I grabbed the little glow-in-the-dark LED flashlight and stumbled out of my warm covers to the narrow hook-latch door. Pulling it open fast, I aimed the beam into its little beady eyes. My “get out!” shocked it with the effect of producing a full bushy tail and a stiff jump before it shot away. Snatching the bent curtain rod, I slam it against one of the cross-beams – an additional death threat should it dare to think of returning to disturb my sleep. Sometimes my attic apartment feels only half livable for me but it’s a perfect hide-away for squirrels in the storage areas on either side of the living room. Silly animals – they think chewing a hole through the roof and making a nest in the asbestos is a good idea.

Several years ago a different sort of creature lived in my roof space. This one lacked fur; it had scales, lots of them. The Thai call these lovely lizards with an onomatopoeia name – tuk-kae. The Burmese language does the same – doubt-day. What kind of lizard can only be spoken of by its call? According to the locals, this thing is deadly. Should it decide to latch onto a body part, its grip can only be released with a beheading death. Mothers threaten naughty children that the tuk-kae will come get them if they don’t go to sleep when told. Whether it’s a wife’s tale or truth, terror of this mini-dragon remains.

Along with chirping geckos, I welcomed the illusive tuk-kae. I couldn’t tell if it was the same little beast or different ones that often serenaded me to sleep on my floor mat. The thing never showed itself. The tuk-kae’s mom must tell her babies a similar horror story about humans.

One evening I was over playing with the Safe House kids after they had completed their homework. Our fearless Akha leader waved good-night and decided it was time for her to head back to her apartment. Now this gal is not a timid, demeanor lady. She’ll slay venomous snakes, pick up softball-sized spiders with her bare hands and sneak into war zones without fear. But tonight would reveal her cringing reaction to the tuk-kae.

We were giggling inside as the kids tried to teach me the Thai alphabet. There are too many “letters” with slightly varying “k” sounds! Suddenly we heard a blood-curdling shriek come from the dark. She burst through the side door with wide eyes. What? What’s wrong?! “It’s…it’s a tuk-kae!” Apparently the quiet, dark cab of the beat-up Land Rover looked like a perfect hideout to the cold-blooded critter.

The brave troupe of children, several other staff and one farang (me!) scampered out to evict the intruder. One boy threw the passenger door back, yelled and thrust a broom handle into the interior. The other kids pelted the vehicle with pebbles. Hum…good thing it was already dinged up. The flashlight beam caught the glimmer of its scales as it fled the cab but took shelter underneath near the exhaust pipe. Wisely, she restrained the kids from stabbing the belly of the Land Rover.

She absolutely refused to drive home knowing the fearsome tuk-kae would be tagging along. Frantically she dialed his number on her cell – the American missionary man who grew up in Thailand. Ten minutes later he zoomed up on his motorcycle. His silver and blue helmet came off with concern. Though of average height, his arms were at least three times the size of mine. He took the broom handle from the boy and it became a sword in his hands – the dragon slayer had arrived. With awe, they watched him expertly expel the lizard. It shot into the underbrush along the narrow neighborhood road. Leave the poor heart-pounding creature alone? Heck no! He stabbed the green leaves until they looked like tattered ribbons. The rod pinned the lizard’s squirming head down. He reached his hand in and pulled it out by its wiggling body.  Crushing the head with his boot, he twisted the body until it was headless.

All cheered in victory…except the farang. If it had of been me, I would have tried to capture it humanely and remove it to a nearby field. Killing or removing one lizard really solved nothing. Within two hundred yards there was sure to be a dozen more tuk-kae lizards. This was the only time in a year that I ever saw a tuk-kae. These lizards fear humans and eat disease-ridden rodents. Sometimes in life, we fear things that aren’t really that scary and may actually be helpful.