cold blood

When my parents were young, they used to have a little crocodile  from the Nile living in the bathtub. They called him Shovek.
Shortly before I was born, as they came back from a small vacation, the crocodile was gone. 
Bam! Vanished. No one saw him again.
They say he went through the plughole to join his fellows in the New York City sewer system.

There is something wrong, since I came to this cold land. 
My skin got harder, my blood colder.
And every full moon I need to take quiet, long, hot baths.