Everything this man says is true.
Iguanas are smarter than you give them credit for, and I’ve heard and seen things most people wouldn’t believe an Iguana would be capable of. Iguanas have been taught to open doors, use the bathroom in a toilet, and can even beg for food just like a dog. Also like a dog, if you do something that upsets them, they’re liable to take it out on you, or something of yours they think is important. For a few years, my iguana (Spike) lived in a cage in my room with no top, only a brach over the top of the cage that stretched out underneath a heat lamp. Spike was toilet trained and only used the restroom in his cage…unless I fed him something he didn’t like.
I found that each time I fed him tomatoes, he’d get diarheah, and would go on my bed. I stopped feeding him tomatoes, and he went back to using his cage as a restroom. He’d explore my room, but for the most part he’d stay in or above his cage since thats where his water, food, and heat rock were. However, even though he had everything in his cage he’d need for comfort: food, water, hot rock, large branch underneath heat lamp, and a place or two to cool off; if I was ever on my bed reading he’d walk over to me and pay me a visit. Usually this included him licking me a few times, crawling on whatever book I was reading to gain more attention, and falling asleep on me after I rubbed his neck some.
As I was saying before, they beg for food quit often, and this is usually a product of the owner giving him human snacks every now and then. My iguana has experienced all sorts of human delicacys ranging from pizza, to potatoe chips, and thanks to my sister, even hard liquer. One day me and a friend were eating grilled cheese sanwhiches in my room when Spike came over since he knew I’d be willing to break bred. He settled near my friend and looked me hard in the eye.
Me: tears off piece of grilled cheese and hands it to friend Hey give this to Spike will ya?
Friend: Ok…starts handing grilled cheese chunk to lizard, but suddenly pulls sammich away from our little scaled friend, and sarfs it down 
My iguana did not take this act of treachery well, and my friend hardly saw the ramification of his betrayal coming. A split second later, Spike was leaping towards my friends chest, and upon landing proceed to scratch and bite at his heart as though to dig his way to the morsel of food that was rightfully his. My friend started screaming, and fell to the floor. I could hardly believe my eyes. Here, in my room, my iguana was trying to claw his way through my friend, and my friend was rolling around on the ground like he was in one of those dustcloud fights you see in Looney Toon cartoons. I was growing hysteric.
This continues for about twenty seconds untill my friend stops rolling, and both me and him can clearly see that my iguana is still tyring to rip his guts out, preferbly with grilled cheese intact. Naturally, he begins rowling and screaming again as I laugh.
Not too much longer, I pry the furious beast off of my friend, and give him a new piece of sandwhich. But the damage was done, and since then whenever my Iguana laid eyes on my friend, he’d fill himself with air, whip his tail, sometimes snap, and in general, grow belligerent. This was behavior reserved soley for my pal, a guy who had babysat Spike several times in the past, who had personally watched over him and probably has saved his at least as many times as my mom has.
I tell this tale to you so everyone here can pass this tale down to you children and learn from my friend’s mistake; for a wise man learns from his mistake, but a wiser man learns from the mistakes of others.
The lesson to be learned here is this: A Iguana’s trust is more valuable than 1/10 of a grilled cheese sandwhich.
Also, for the record, Spike is about 6 (7?) years old now, and other than the occasional sample of something from the human plate, leads a pretty healthy life.
