Slither, Hiss and Scream..Part II

         

Continuing the sage of snake, my doggies and me

          Math is not my strong suit but some very quick calculations were forming in my mind.  Back door is open…snake is two feet from door… me, two feet from snake…broom within easy reach of my left hand.  The solution seemed simple.  With one quick swish of the broom that snake could be flying through the air and out the door.  I would immediately follow-up by slamming the glass door shut.

          I swished and the snake disappeared.  But was that outside or inside, behind the curtain hanging at the door?  I had not calculated the lip at the bottom of the sliding door and I couldn’t see any slithery thing outside.  A questioning look passed between me and my doggies.  Clueless.

          Then we all moved at once.  I slammed the glass door shut and the three of us took off up the stairs.  Being in the living room with a flight of stairs and a fairly solid door between me and snake did nothing for my nerves.  How much room does a snake need to slither under a door?  I grabbed some towels and jammed them against the quarter inch space.  Now we were safe…at least until the morning.

          Then I did stupid thing number two.  I called my husband in Texas.  Trying to remain calm, inbetween throwing furtive glances at the door, I recounted all that had transpired in the basement.  I kept repeating that I wasn’t sure if the snake was actually outside or still in our house.

          There was a long silence from my husband.  Then very gently he said: ‘Honey, just what do you want me to do?  I’m on the other side of country.’  Good point.

          The doggies and I had a fairly restless night.  At least I did.  They snored on regardless.

          The next morning it was time to be brave; this time, with a pair of hefty shoes on my feet.  Gingerly, I checked behind all the furniture in the basement being careful not to disturb anything too much.  No snake.  I walked outside with a sigh of relief.  I must have swept snake out last night after all, I thought.

          As I turned back my eye caught something curled up against the glass door.  Snake was enjoying the sunshine from within my house.

          Lots of hysterical screaming for my neighbor to present himself followed.  He got the snake out with a shovel and promptly decapitated it.  Lots more sighs of relief.  Now I was safe – definitely.

          But I was puzzled why my neighbor kept walking around my small yard, shovel at the ready.

          ‘That was a baby copperhead,’ he explained.  ‘I’m looking for its Mommy.’

          Great.  Now I could look forward to Mom coming to get me and exact revenge.

          But, all turned out okay and my basement door was never left open again.  My dogs would have to wait to be let out or leave their offerings in the middle of the floor.  Hey, I’d much rather pick up dog poop than another snake any day.

 ******

PS.  I'll be playing tour guide to a friend who's coming to visit for a couple of weeks.  I'll resume my Blog posting towards the end of July...

Slither, Hiss and Scream - Part I

          I loathe air-conditioning.  I hate the thought of breathing regurgitated air with all windows and doors firmly shut while the effects of a stunningly clear blue sky is a pane of glass away.  For this reason, my idea of air-conditioning is an open window, an open door and a fan creating a soft breeze.

          Some years back and for a while, we lived in Virginia.  Our house was one of those cute two-storey jobs with a fully finished walk-out basement.  At the time, my husband and I were the proud owners of two adorable cocker spaniels and the basement was their turf.  Consequently, while I was locked up in an air-conditioned igloo upstairs, the basement door was left open so the dogs could come and go at will.

          And so it was on a balmy summer evening, with my husband away on business, I wandered down to check on my four-footed kids.  Despite the frigid conditions upstairs, I was dressed appropriately for a hot July night…shorts, t-shirt and bare feet.

          A small lamp which lit the basement all night…the better for the doggies to see their way in and out…cast a pleasing glow over the room.  Walking further into the room I noticed a fairly large stick lying on the floor.  Obviously, one of the dogs had dragged it in from our pocket-sized yard.

          Without much thought I gave the stick a kick, thinking to send it flying outside.  The stick immediately coiled, raised a full half of its body length upright and let fly with a glorious hiss.     

          Crikey!  And eeeek!!

          I stepped back and froze.  A furtive glance at my two canine heroes told me no help would be forthcoming from that direction.  They were both sitting up on a corner sofa ready to enjoy the show and no doubt bury my body in the yard if it became necessary.  So, what to do?

          Despite the fact I grew up in Australia, often publicized as a country with the largest number of venomous snakes, in all my years there I had never seen one.  Unless you include the overfed, snoring coils presented by Taronga Park Zoo.

          When you think you’re going to die, time does not stand still.  Instead it makes you stupid.

          I knew I had to get the snake out of my house…dead or alive.  But how?  Keeping my eyes on snake, I reached behind me and grabbing a can of spray, I emptied it over the snarling serpent.  What brilliance!  Did I really believe I could fly spray it to death?

          I think the snake coughed once.  It definitely gave me a dirty look as it again raised its body and showed me its teeth, or is that fangs?

          Here ends Part I… The continuing saga of snake, my doggies and me will continue in my next blog post.

           

My Girl Sophie

          A little less than three years ago, after months of poring through internet sites and visiting animal rescue facilities, I found the puppy I’d been searching for.  A fluff ball of brown, black and white fur, who tilted her head to the side as though listening to my question when I asked ‘do you want to be my doggie?’

          I named her Sophie because it seemed to suit her.  Much better than the ‘Princess of the House’ moniker she thought she deserved.  Sophie is a Bichon Frise mix.  No one was too sure what that ‘mix’ actually might be, but as her legs continued to grow and she lost some of the color in her makeup, I thought an Old English Sheepdog might have been in her lineage.  Either that or a white St. Bernard.

Sophie at 3 months

          A little less than two years ago, I had an emergency replacement of a perfectly nice, relatively new, laminate floor in both my living room and in my dining room.

          And what has one to do with the other?  Ah, you might well ask.

          At the time, my daughter was visiting from Australia when, at about 2 a.m.. she stuck her head into my room and, very calmly, asked about towels.

          ‘Towels?’  I gave you towels.’

          ‘We need more Mum…lots more.  The house is flooding.’

          I was out of bed like a shot and followed her downstairs.  The living room floor was covered in about two inches of water, the accent rug in the center of the room a soaked blob.  I looked further past the soggy furniture to the dining room.  It too was fast becoming a sea of wet rugs and wetter furniture legs.

          Frantically, we looked to find the source of all this water.  Now, there is no way for me to prove this…but I swear I heard distinct musical sounds coming from the half bathroom under the stairs.  Something like, ‘tra-la-la-la-la, tra-la-la-la.’

          And there was Sophie, standing under a gorgeous, and very large spray of water emanating from the chewed through flexicord that connected the toilet to the water pipe in the wall.  We stood transfixed as Sophie splashed and played and romped.  She was having the time of her life!

          Needless to say, despite our best efforts and every towel I possessed, it was obvious the water had gotten under the laminate flooring and it would all have to be ripped up and replaced.  And of course the toilet flexicord substituted for an unchewable stainless steel job.

          It took several days to dry out the floor and for the new laminate to be installed, with Sophie checking everything to ensure quality work was being performed.

          But one good thing did come out of all this.  We dispensed with ideas of sheepdogs and St. Bernards…Sophie’s mixed lineage obviously included a  Portugese Water Dog!

                   

                                                  Sophie at about 18 months