I was sitting in my dining room this morning trying to negotiate a very busy summer schedule and another blogging trip. Deep in concentration, I was still a bit groggy but vaguely keeping one ear open for my four year old playing in the other room.
When something caught my eye.
My husband had just gone out the kitchen door through the garage and was getting something out of his car. So the door was kind of open. And I think that’s how it got in.
A LONG snake.
Groggy or not, I could NOT believe my eyes. And I was suddenly very much wide awake.
With wide, slithering arcs, our new visitor was apparently trying to make his way across our kitchen floor. And quickly. And so like any calm, self-sufficient woman, I screamed for my husband to GET in here RIGHT NOW!! Confused, he rushed in – and jumped. I laughed at him jumping only to find myself standing on a dining room chair.
And the snake, even more concerned about being cornered by this new apparent predator jumping at his rear, streaked right for our oven. Under he went.
…What the hell was THAT? My husband and I stared at each other disbelieving.
But we knew we had to get him out. With what, we weren’t sure. But we had to find something, some way, to coax him out of there.
We took a look at him first. And there he was, curled up under our stove trying to get away from his potential predators and the overwhelming heat of the day. The bubble over his head clearly read:
Dude. Be cool. I just want to curl up back here awhile. I mean no harm. So as you were. Nothing to see here.
That wasn’t going to fly. Not with dinners to cook in that very stove and children about and bare feet and who knows WHERE he might wind up next.
I think it was the sudden visual of his slithery silent body making his way up through my sheets and into my bed at night that made me start shaking the oven. Violently.
So, with a fishing pole slashing around the back of the oven and my panicked careful shaking, he cautiously made his way forward. And yes, I laid on the floor with the camera to get a shot. My husband was aggravated. How I could prioritize camera angles over just getting him OUT already? Come on now. But blurry or not, I had to get some shots. HAD TO.
It felt like an hour later, after the trash truck had passed (and scared him back in) and more patient waiting, and calm whispering and much less coaxing, slashing and violent shaking in general. After some still and silence, he seemed ready to emerge.
(I should mention here that my four year old never emerged. He remained deeply engrossed in his play elsewhere. How? With all that noise and stressing and cussing? I have no idea. But he stayed put so phew to that.)
Anyway, so we sat there quietly. An inch at a time he moved forward.
And once he had come out entirely, we stood very slowly.
My husband gently reached out with the fishing pole and used the eyelet of the pole to pull the snake away from the shelving he was heading towards next.
Miraculously, the snake figured out what we were trying to do and saw his escape. He bolted with full arcing speed, and zipped back into the garage. Into a pile of boxes and toys and crap we haven’t organized.
No. I have no idea if he is still out of there.
But he’s not in my house. And in Florida, where snakes move through our lives more frequently than we’d like to admit, I’ll have to settle for a snake in our garage versus a snake in our kitchen.
In retrospect, that snake was cool as hell. No, not poisonous. And certainly not aggressive. Perhaps desperate for a bit of cool shade. As we all are right now. Because it’s damn HOT outside. So I certainly can’t blame a snake for trying. I’m just proud of us for getting him out unharmed and not flipping the frock out too badly.
My only regret? My kitchen floors. That poor guy sped out of here with a dust bunny attached to his head.
Because if unexpected wildlife wandering through my home wasn’t enough to put you off a visit sometime soon, my dirty floors may just be.
So. Cleaner floors. Fewer snakes. More friends. I’ll get right on that.