Trying to get a jump on today’s laundry, I scurried downstairs basket in hand. I quickly loaded the washer and as I went to lower the washer lid, I shrieked. A tiny serpent tongue and glassy eye was directed toward me. There on the back panel, draping itself over the control knob was a garter snake.
I had a suspicion the other day that I might have a visitor as there was some insulation clinging to the wall. Dominic, my hero and Capture Man, had stuffed the holes around the vent opening a few years ago and told me what to look for in the unlikely event that snake would return. Seeing no scat or other signs, I proceeded happily into my state of denial. No such luck.
Question is, who will survive? Me or it. Today, in my panic, I ran upstairs, looked up his number and am ready to call. When I first discovered the snake I felt it was too early to call. Needed coffee too. I thought, it is better to have the snake under a towel or in a bucket before I call or we will look like to grown idiots staring at the washer and dryer.
The first towel tossing missed its intended target. Snake fell off and landed behind the washer. I was good with that.
Clothes got washed. Now in the dryer. Snake is back on the washer. Toss number two knocked him on to the floor. I hunch and shriek!!!! again. (I am not normally prone to shrieking, but…) It’s under or behind some metal shelving hiding from me. Coward! It will die of old age if I have move that stuff. It’s good and safe.
Time to call my man, Dominic. He’ll arrive like a Ghost Buster. Metal stick and old pillow case in hand to poke around and flush the little devil out. Once snared, he will take it to a field far away and release him or so the story goes. I have some suggested addresses ready.
You may wonder why I am writing this and not calling? I am wondering the same thing. I am also wondering if it will read this post and know of the journey that is awaiting it.
Who will survive? I will keep you posted…or maybe snaky will.
The big box store did not have humane snake traps and I was somewhat relieved. When I got home a friend called to offer to come over with her cat Orangey. (Who names a cat that?) Anyway, I declined but we moved on to other topics. Surveilling the basement as the conversation dragged on, I got to thinking that the last time I went through this snake thing it was up on top of the shelves, not down below. So, up I looked and saw nothing. What I did see was a Emirel Lagasse picnic tote I had bought at the All-Clad sale years ago. What bothered me, other than the fact that the tote is very awkward for a short person, was that it was sitting crooked on the shelf. OCD can be helpful. Read on. On closer inspection, I saw what looked like a shoe string on the hat box beside Emeril. OOOooo, that shoe string has a head. There it was wrapped around the ribbon adornment on the hatbox that held my Mother’s Autumn Haze Mink hat she wore to my Grandmother’s funeral in 1965. Don’t mink eat snakes?
Hung up with Ann and ran upstairs. Called Dominic. An hour later, googled his website and called again. Wrong number first time. Some dude got a frantic message about a snake. Oh well, Dominic was here in 15 minutes. He said to keep a close eye on snakey, so I did. I swept the floor, folded the clothes, sipped a little wine and hummed the snake charmer tune to him. To be honest, I thought it was dead. My singing will do that!
Dominic arrived with his metal stick, his dirty pillowcase, and a thick brown glove. In one fell swoop, snakey was snared. Still alive, he dropped him in the pillowcase. I wrote the check and he showed me photos of some fox kits he captured and released at the end of his street. We laughed.
Going sleep better tonight. We both survived.
I am glad that Snakey got a reprieve. Maybe he will find happiness in the grassy fields of Eighty-Four.
You are a humanitarian. I am terrified of snakes and would have spent the time figuring out how to turn Snakey into a pair of shoes, or at least a wallet.