Jamie wanteth a snake. And the good Lord gaveth.
It pays to live in small towns. Especially if you want a snake.
Not just any snake. A beautiful long lean (and very hungry) black snake.
Today the Lord answered my prayers.
Wait.
Let me back up a second.
* * *
Last summer my 20 year old came home from a visit with his girlfriend bearing a pet.
A large beautiful black snake.
Whom we named Elvis.
Our house was torn apart at the time by remodel in progress, and we were living in a garage apartment. I told the children to take Elvis over to the house and put him in a random reptile tank we had. Doesn’t everybody have a old reptile tank in their attic?
Well. Seems we had lost the top to the tank. But the kids told me, “Don’t worry mom, we’ve got it covered.”
A half hour later, I learned Elvis had left the building.
Great. And that room was the only room I could get internet. So I tippy-toed up there through the construction zone and sat down with my laptop.
While I was deep in thought, Elvis slid ever so gracefully out from under the futon I was sitting on and made his way for a stack of books.
Scream.
SCREAM even louder.
No one — workmen or children — seemed to care that I was about to be killed.
The kids eventually came and rescued me. Or did they save Elvis?
That’s when I said that Elvis had to go. He was a snake. A wild animal. Albeit a very nice one.
When I posted on Facebook about our adventures with Elvis our wonderful Morgan County Animal Control Officer, Cindy Wiemann, reminded me of just that. It was against the law to keep Elvis.
Honestly, I so wanted to put Elvis under our house to keep rodents away.
But only did we not have a door at the time,
We didn’t have a floor.
So as my daughter sobbed, we reluctantly let Elvis go in a neighbors’ side yard. A little unknown present from me. I’m so giving that way. 🙂
I told Cindy, if she ever finds another snake and we have a floor at the time, please bring him to me.
* * *
Today, Cindy showed up in my driveway with a plastic tub.
Could it be?
I didn’t want to get my hopes up.
A big long black beautiful exterminator of my very own.
RAPTURE.
Yes, what was the loss of a dumpster out by the interstate was my gain.
My hand reached down to stroke his silky back and Cindy’s eyes got big as snake eggs.
“He’s very angry right now.”
That’s okay. I understand cranky men. I loved him still and I had just the spot.
For now there was a door to our house and more importantly, we have a floor.
The ancient door to the crawl space which is only open to venture under the house to change the air filter to the heater/air unit.
I have a snake. JOY.
“I guess we have to give him a name,” I said.
“Herbie?” Cindy replied. “I used to have a snake, Herbie.”
So that’s the tale how I got my live-in exterminator, Herbie.
I love him so.
This is also the story of how my husband is going to be changing the air filter under our house for the next 20 years.
Any snake fans out there?
