The bad economy is forcing pet owners in Boston to abandon dogs, cats and even alligators (a self correcting problem, the alligators take care of the dogs and cats and then winter takes care of the alligators -- I kid). Actually, the article is pretty sad, but the bit about the pet alligator reminded me of a story from my youth.
My grandparents had a "pet" alligator. By pet I mean my grandfather was a science/biology teacher in Brooklyn in the 1940s and his classroom had many animals. He was able to find summer homes for the ducks, hamsters and other critters but, for some reason, not the gator.So the gator ended up summering in my grandparents apartment, living mostly in the bath tub (he wasn't that big). Whenever someone wanted to take a bath or shower, the gator was simply moved to a crate on the fire escape. This worked well until the day someone forgot to lock the crate. Did I mention the fire escape was one of those old fashioned ones with stairs?
When my grandmother noticed that the alligator had wandered off, she went looking for it. She passed an open construction pit on Ave P (near Coney Island Ave for those who know the area) and heard some men screaming and hissing from the hole. She looked down and there was the gator about to be clobbered by some sewer workers. She screamed down "Don't hurt my alligator!" climbed in and rescued it to the bemusement of the workers.
This being Brooklyn in the 1940s, no one really thought this was strange. Today my grandparents probably would've been fired (my grandfather), sued and evicted. The gator remained in the class for another year or two before moving to the Staten Island Zoo where I presume he lived a long happy life.
