One morning two weeks ago as I fluffed pillows, straightened out piles of magazines and preformed other housewifely duties the television played faintly in the back ground. I caught glimpses here and there as I walked by, of a show called 'Animal Rescue'. One of the animals being rescued was a poisonous snake. He had found his way into a old people's care taking home in Australia, and the Animal Rescuers were humanely removing him and taking him far from civilization to a place where he could live out his days the way nature had intended for him and all snake-kind. They said things like,
'There you are Mr. Snake, you're all right now buddy'.
Three days later a long, green snake appeared in my dining room. He was doing everything you would imagine a snake would do: slithering, hissing and striking his head out in an obvious effort to bite the nearest attacker.
'ANIMALS!' My first job was to clear out all four legged and furry creatures lest one of them mistake the unwelcomed guest for a play thing.
Meahwhile, said snake slithered UP the wall, and found a resting place above a doorway - using a curtian rod to support it's lengthy body. The hissing continued. I held an umbrella in front of me, and once it was just me and the snake in the house, I began assesing the situation.
I called my husband who advised me to grab a long pole, and slide the snake out the door. After an 'Ummm, ok?' and a vain attempt, I was back on the phone: 'I can't really do that hun, uhhhmmmm.'
In the end, I took a few photos and emailed them to my concerned husband. He told me to stay calm and keep my eye on the snake. He would have some of the Thai guys in the office look and the pics and then call me back.
Less than a minute later the phone rang:
'Don't touch the sanke! It's poisonous! Don't go near it!' And so, I waited - and the snake waited. He hissed...a lot.
Damon's Thai work mates called the Thai version of Animal Rescue, and I felt relieved that this whole senario was going to end happily. The snake would be carted off in a box and taken to a mountian where he could settle down, raise a few baby snakes and live happily ever after - and even better, neither I nor any of the members of my zoo had been struck by venom and sentanced to snake-induced death.
It didn't happen quite as I'd imagined it. There were no happy looking people wearing matching cotton, navy blue Animal Rescue uniforms and safari hats. There was no special snake catching device. No box with holes in the lid. It was just a guy with no front teeth asking if I had bamboo?
As it turns out, I do have bamboo - the long sticks I was going to use to make a trellace for my snow peas. Anyhow, I stood on a chair with my umbrella and watched as Snake Guy beat the snake to death with my gardening equiptment. It was sad. I wanted him to call the snake 'buddy'. I was hoping that he'd trap the snake in a snake-friendly box, wipe the sweat from his brow and say:
'Nother one of God's good creatures saved. Best be gettin on to the next rescue. You have a nice day Mam.'
But, I guess life isn't always like it is on TV. And besides,
my snake rescue guy was pretty brave. That was one big snake.
