Spike

Bearded Dragon

In the Year of the Dragon, I feel the heft of my scales and the stories etched into my spiky beard. What I yearn for is tranquility.

In my golden years, life is all about the perfect nap and a cozy spot on my whicker hammock. I’ve mastered the art of sunbathing on my stone pedestal, channeling my inner Mushu. Relaxing for me means a beard that puffs up when these youngsters invade my space—gotta show ‘em who’s boss with a good hiss. And as I rest, the years peel away, carefree and basking in the glow of bygone days.

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