What’s the gecko equivalent of Parseltongue?

I need to know because I’m pretty sure I speak it. Fluently.

I found a gecko in my closet. And I totally saved his LIFE, you guys.

There are a few things I expect to see when I open my closet door in the morning. Piles of clothes. Piles of shoes. Socks. Sometimes there’s a trampoline.

A small reptile, on the other hand, is never something I expect to see.

Nevertheless, there he was, clinging upside down in a very awkward space between the door frame and the wall. I greeted him in a manner I’m sure he found familiar: I screamed. Let it be known that I did not scream because I am scared of geckos. I’m not scared of geckos. I like geckos. Shut up, I do. Really. I screamed because I thought he was a scorpion. He was a very tiny gecko.

The gecko blinked at me. I immediately came to two conclusions: I had a mutant, eye-blinking scorpion in my apartment ready to destroy me OR this was a gecko. In a rare act of rationality in the face of paranoia, I chose to believe “gecko” and lowered the shoe that I had grabbed to protect myself (See? Shoes are fashionable AND multi-functional. Never mock me for my shoe collection again).

I softly said “Hello” to the gecko. He blinked again. We were friends instantly.

As we stood there, staring and blinking at each other, I began to imagine my future with my new gecko bestie. He would eat any intruder insects for me and I would do my best not to accidentally step on him. My plan was flawless.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Susi begin to creep.

I yelled “Susi NO!” and she stopped dead in her tracks. She sat down slowly, never taking her eyes off the gecko. Susi may have been in retirement for the last year but I know she has never lost her lust for The Hunt. I began to fear for my new friend’s life.

“Stay there,” I said to the gecko and ran off to search for a gecko-saving device.

I came back with some generic Target tupperware. Susi had inched closer to the closet, looking ever like the lioness ready to pounce. I turned to the gecko. “Gecko, I know you want to stay but we have to get you out of here right now,” I said insistently. I slowly began to lower the rescue device over his little body. He ran away from me, straight down the wall to the carpet. Susi’s tail flicked hungrily.

I started to become desperate, pleading with him, “Gecko, if you don’t let me catch you, you are going to die!” He blinked but remained still. Slowly, I began to lower the tupperware again. This time he didn’t move. That gecko allowed me to put him in the tupperware. He remained perfectly still as I walked him to the door. I stepped outside and placed him on the ground.

“You’re safe now, Gecko,” I said solemnly. “Be free.” He blinked at me one last time and skittered off into the distance.

I saved a life that day. I communicated with that gecko, a kindred spirit of the Planet Earth. He let me catch him and I saved his life.

I washed the Tupperware in really, really hot water right after that.