I sat on the porch steps, performing my little self healing ritual. I like to take my shoes off and bury my toes in what's left of the grass, close my eyes and feel the sun. I let it's warmth soak in to my skin, while my feet stay firmly planted against the earth.
I know it's hippy dippy, but my feet feel so much better after.
It was unseasonably warm for December, in the high 60s. Cisco was perched on the steps beside me, ready to sound the alarm if a hiker wandered by. As I blinked out of my self-imposed trance, I caught something from the corner of my eye. A streak of critter blur from under T.A.'s car to the scrap wood pile, overgrown with vines and weeds.
I couldn't tell if it had legs. It could have been Eddie Lizard, who spends summers basking on the porch, but it seemed much smaller. My mind went back to a blistering hot summer night and I wondered.
It was late in the season and daytime temperatures were hoving near 100°. I don't like summer. My ankles swell up, along with everything else, and I'm convinced there is a slithering, legless creature hiding under every rock. I do a mean fat-girl waddle from the house to the truck if I'm forced to go outside.
On this particular night, I was sprawled out on the bed, in front of the fan, airing my bits and pieces. I was almost asleep when Ayla started sounding the alarm. She barks every night, the Great Pyrenees in her forcing her to stand guard against anything that moves.
I used to worry about the neighbors complaining, but after they violated the property line and cut down my black walnut tree, they can just deal with it. I dare them to say a word.
But anywho...
This wasn't Ayla's normal "MOMMY THERE'S A POSSUM IN THE TREE" bark, she sounded kinda freaked out. I got up and opened the back door to find a giant wad of black, wiggling mass at the bottom of the back steps. I couldn't tell for sure if it was a snake, but I didn't know what else it could be. Whatever it was, it was not small.
I was instantly nauseous, sweating and shaking all over. I closed the door.
Now, before you start judging me for leaving the dog out there with whatever the hell that was, you need to understand that when it comes to snakes, it's every critter for themself. Just ask The Amazon who, when shopping in a pet store, a woman rounded the end of the aisle carrying a ginormous python. I instinctively shoved my 7th grader between me and the snake and waddled like the wind for the door.
She will never let me forget it.
I called to T.A., who happened to be off that night.
"COME HERE AND SEE IF THIS IS A SNAKE." She came to the kitchen, expecting something of the garter variety under a cabinet. "Look outside. Ayla has it cornered. I don't know what it is. It's in a wad. It's as big around as my arm."
"What do you mean "see if it's a snake?" I can tell by your face it's a snake. Why did you leave the dog out there? WHAT IF IT'S POISONOUS?" She opened the door and started down the steps.
I was torn. I didn't want her or the dog to get bitten, but I sure as hell wasn't going out there.
"Hi snek!" she says, as if it's a fluffy kitten. "Leave it Ayla, you're scaring it."
Seriously, did this kid come out of me? WHAT IS WRONG WITH HER?
I cracked the back door and peeked outside. T.A. was in the yard, leading Ayla back away from the massive hell beast that was going to eat us all. "Okay snek, you are safe now. Move along, " she whispered.
When she came back in, she tried to reassure me. "It went away, very fast. It's gone."
"Did it go under the house?? It's going to come up through the hole in the bathroom and nibble my sausage toes while I pee. You really need to fix that hole. Sweet Jesus, can I sleep with you?" I had visions of seeing it's head poke up through the floor, sending me screaming out in to the street with my skirt hiked up to my neck and my granny panties around my ankles.
"No Mama. It was way too big to fit through the hole," which didn't make me feel better at all.
(There are holes in the bathtub where it's cracked. It happens in trailers. Everything is plastic and we are Goddess sized women. I've already replaced it once. Also, a few years ago we had a church group come and fix the floor in the bathroom and now there's a half inch wide crack between the floor and the tub. Frankly, I'm shocked nothing has crawled inside yet.)
She determined it was a rat snake of some variety, but there was no explanation for it's size, until she came home from work the next day.
"I talked to Hunky Viking Boss (an expert on all things reptilian) and he said it was probably full of eggs."
Well that's just effin' great. I was convinced it was going to lay it's eggs under the house, then it's 500 babies would invade the potty and we'd have to move.
I was thankful for the first frost of the year. I thought it was safe to sleep again, until that unseasonably warm day when I could have sworn I saw a tiny slithery thing running for cover under the brush.
~*~