A few weeks back I wrote about mice under the hood of my car. So far so good on that front. Either the dryer sheets that I stuffed into every nook and cranny, are discouraging my visitors, or I did, in fact, kill off every member of the family. I don't need to know more than that they are gone for good. They did, however, jog my memory of an earlier experience.
Back in the late sixties when my travels took me to California, I stayed with a family in Portola Valley for a few weeks, between house sitting jobs. They had a camper in the back yard where I slept but I often spent time in the house with them in the evenings. Their son's name was Rocky, because at the time they said he had rocks in his head!! (not very PC). Well Rocky had a pet snake, a 9 ft long python that he kept in his room.
Every 3 weeks the python would need to eat. The rest of the time it just hung out in it's cage or lay draped around Rocky's neck or across his lap. When feeding time came, 3 white mice had to be purchased from the local pet shop. If it had been a few decades later I could have provided him with mice for free! The best place to feed the snake was in the shower stall, I learned. You can't just hand a python a mouse on a plate. He has to catch it himself and squeeze it to death. They also have to have water to wash it down.
When feeding day arrived the live mice were tossed into the shower stall together with Monty. Luckily the shower stall was all glass so the next few minutes were like watching an episode of Planet Earth. I have a minor fascination with snakes and a strong aversion to mice so I could watch knowing who was going to win this one.
The mice were duly dispatched, swallowed whole and one very contented snake was ready for a long nap. Rocky being a typical 12 year old, settled into the couch with a bag of Doritos and a 9ft snake across his lap and flicked on the TV. Not until the TV show ended did Rocky notice that the python was gone. Panic ensued while the whole family, included me, searched the entire house. There were no open doors or windows, no obvious holes in which to hide and no snake. Up until this point I was OK with the snake. That is, before it went missing. Now, not knowing where it was and where it might suddenly appear was a little unsettling. At least I wasn't sleeping in the house and likely to find it in my bed.
Several days passed, and then a week, and then two weeks and still no snake. Either the snake was dead or starting to get hungry. Going into the third week the family was gathered in the living room watching the nightly news. I had joined them on the couch and my bare foot was tucked up under the cushion when I felt a movement. You can believe I shot off that couch pretty fast. Quickly the cushions were stripped off and there to our surprise was the python outlined in the upholstery. He must have slithered into the innards of the couch and was now trying to find his way out. It took a sharp knife to slit the fabric in order to extricate him, alive and well.
The only one who was thrilled was Rocky who wrapped him around his neck for a quick hug and headed off to the pet shop in search of dinner.
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