It was only a matter of time.
David just came up to announce “Scampi has a snake”.
“A snake….where?”, I asked. “How big?”
“Downstairs, in the breakfast room”, replied my husband. “Big snake”.
Marching downstairs to the breakfast room. Under the towel rack, barely visible was a head and eyes. Edging ever closer to his prey was Scampi, and , yeah, it weren’t no mouses this time, but a snake.
Lifting up the towel rack, we saw it. Cornered, eyes shining, mouth half open, the snake was clearly not amused. And it was, as David said, a big snake.
With back up, Scampi backed off, but a part of me has no doubt that my brave kitten would have defended his house and home by attempting to dispatch the snake.
Here, forthwith is the snake prior to David throwing a towel over him, carrying him out the door through the birdcage to toss into the yard.
Scampi pranced and danced, accepting his praise. He’s also beat a path back downstairs, I guess to make sure the snake didn’t have a partner.
If I know my cat he’ll spend half the night down there.
I am disturbed to know that my Catherine Rose will cruise my page and find out. Of all times, the night before her first day of college.