BY MICHAEL QUIRK
Mark and Pam Pomfret awoke at 2:30 a.m. on Tuesday to a racket at their lanai door. Was at an intruder trying to rob them? Was it a ghost haunting them because their house was buried on an ancient Florida Man burial ground? No, it was somehow worse. It was a nine-foot alligator.
According to the FWC, May and June are alligator mating season. So maybe instead of yelling, “hey get outta here,” Mark should have yelled, “stay away from my wife, pal.” If this gator wanted so badly to get into their home, does any part of the couple’s minds go to, “wait…is there a female gator somewhere in here?” Nothing has to make your blood boil quite like a gator trying to use your house for his romantic interests.
While I understand the homeowners not being please, I bet the gator was not too happy, either. He had a long day in the swamp lurking, sunbathing, scaring turtles. Then he decided to reward himself, maybe with a drink or two at the nearest Flanigan’s. A few libations in, he gets a little frisky, calls up his lady gator friend and says, “hey girl, I’ve got just the place.” Cops get called, he gets hauled away. She probably shows up a little while later looking for him, all she sees is some ceramic ducks (every lanai in Florida has them by law) and patio furniture, and thinks, “what a flake.” The Pomfrets may have inadvertently ruined a beautiful reptilian love story.
Love can be a fickle Floridian beast, sometimes.