Later, I learned the crocodile hadn’t wandered in from the wild. It had escaped from a nearby veterinary clinic, brought in by a local exotic pet owner for routine vaccinations. Somehow, it had slipped away and ended up in my driveway.
The specialists explained that the crocodile was well-fed and docile by its species’ standards, unlikely to attack unprovoked. Still, standing just feet away from such a creature, unaware of the danger, left a lasting impression.
Since that morning, my routine changed. I pause before entering the driveway, crouch slightly, and check beneath my car before getting in. Rationally, I know the odds of another crocodile appearing are nearly zero. Yet the memory of those unblinking eyes and flicking tail lingers, ingrained in my instincts.
Neighbors still bring up the incident, some laughing at its absurdity, others confessing they now check under their cars too.
In a matter of minutes, a normal morning turned into something surreal, a reminder that the unexpected doesn’t warn you before it arrives. Life can shift in an instant—from ordinary routines to encounters that feel like they belong on a wildlife documentary.
Every time I bend down to look under my car now, I remember the eyes, the tail, and the sharp lesson: reality can be stranger—and scarier—than anything imagination could conjure.
