Our backyard neighbor came running yesterday morning in an obvious agitated state, having seen “a giant white snake type creature” in their yard. Further investigation revealed that, indeed, there was a four foot white snake curled up in the hosta patch. Not pure white, actually, but with faint almost imperceptible light tan markings and pink eyes. Judging from the shape of its head and its demeanor, and some knowledge of the snakes indigenous to its area, it was not venomous. So, in the spirit of farm boys everywhere, I captured it. It appears to be an albino snow corn snake (elaphe guttata guttata). I don’t know the sex – apparently you have to “probe” (whatever that means), a snake to find that out but it has a pretty docile temperament so we decided to add it to our menagerie. So, off to the pet store to buy some frozen mice, another heat mat, and whatever other accoutrements are needed to keep a snake happy. We learned in short order that, while corn snakes raised in captivity are fine with frozen mice (microwaved to approximate body temperature – with a lemon garlic rub perhaps?), wild corn snakes prefer their meals served live – one per week. Given Real Wife’s affection for pet rats and other rodents, this will clearly be my responsibility. Although I have hunted game, and slaughtered cattle on our farm as a teenager, I do have some misgivings about sending a mouse to certain slow death. I have therefore promised Real Wife and Red Haired Girl that we would only select the ugliest of mice that are those totally lacking in moral values.
The thing that bothers me is how this snake survived in our area, given that we have a couple of owls who make a regular appearance. And with a gazillion kids all over the neighborhood, even a single sighting would have resulted in an urban legend of major proportion. I suppose he may be an escapee, although there has been nothing in the local paper or radio station, nor did a canvas of the neighborhood turn up any leads. The other possibility is that someone turned him loose.
So far he seems to be fitting in. We did have to place a piece of cardboard between his terrarium and that of the gecko, the latter getting pretty excited at the sight of the snake (apparently a natural predator). Pet Store Guy suggested not handling him for a week or so to let him get used to his surroundings. He seems very curious and active. For a hiding shelter I put an old bicycling helmet into service, which is pretty bizarre because when he hears us enter the room he pokes his head out of one of the ventilation slots – kind of a Medusa thing.
While at the pet store we also saw the cutest ferret…
Radar
(The following is one of those e-mail things that go around: it just seemed to be an interesting coincidence that a friend sent it to me, just when Timmer’s Miko re-appeared, and my own Spike and Percy seemed to be fast becoming very, very good friends… not that there’s anything wrong with that!)
EXCERPTS FROM A DOG’S DAILY DIARY:
8:00 a.m. Oh, boy! Dog food! My favorite!
9:30 a.m. Wow! A car ride! This is a blast
9:40 a.m. A walk in the park! Ate some crap…Delicious!
10:30 a.m. Getting rubbed and petted! I’m in love!
12:00 p.m. Lunch! Yummy!
1:00 p.m. Playing in the yard! I just love it!
3:00 p.m. Staring adoringly at my masters…they’re the best! I’ll wag
my tail in joy.
4:00 p.m. Hooray! The kids are home! I’m bouncing off the walls!
5:00 p.m. Milk bones! Great!
7:00 p.m. Get to play ball! This is too good to be true!
8:00 p.m. Wow! Watching TV with my master! Heavenly!
11:00 p.m. Sleeping at the bottom of my master’s bed! Life is soooooooo
great!
More »
So Max and I are taking our evening constitutional and we’re walking in the empty lots behind Chief’s row and there’s this cat laying under the tree with a (yeesh) pink flea collar on. I look at her, she looks at me, Max is straining at his collar, she looks at him. I’ve been fooled a few times in the past couple of weeks by lookalike cats, but this one actually said, “Murph?!” while looking from the dog to me. I don’t know who this Murphy person is or why all the cats seem to know him, but Miko has a particular way of speaking Irish, and I was pretty sure. Max got tied to a tree while I walked closer and I could hear the cat purring and I looked at the paws and sure enough…THUMBS! MIKO!!!!!
So know I have 15 pounds of cat who’s not getting anywhere near that dog and I’ve got a dog tied to the tree, and I’m about a quarter mile away from home. From now on, the cell phone goes with me where-ever I go, even on short walks. I walked over to one of the houses with arms full of fast-becoming-tired-of-this-carrying-thing cat and ask if I could use their phone real quick. I call Beautiful Wife, tell her the news, she’s down the street faster than the 15 mile an hour speed limit should allow. She’s practically in tears. I put Miko into the Santa Fe and she takes her home and Max and I finish our walk. And yes, he did his business, he’s such a good puppy.
Max and I get home. Beautiful Wife tells me that Boyo was in tears he was so happy. When he could talk, his first words? “They didn’t even brush her out.” No, son, they didn’t, and don’t use that phrase in mixed company, especially when the gay boys are around, they’ll focus on you like a lazer on Zarquawi’s SUV.
Gypsy Cat is thoroughly disgusted. Not only is THAT CAT back, but the dog’s still here too. Bedtime should be interesting.
Miko and Max? Miko is sitting on top of the cat tree looking down at Max thoroughly disdainful but holding her ground. Gypsy gave up the main floor of the house when Max is unkenneled a week ago. I don’t think Miko’s going to give any ground whatsover.
So now we have two cats and a dog and we’re happy as could be. The animals are adjusting.
And in case you were wondering, no, I’m not going door to door on Chief’s Row and asking who’s the dickhead who presumed to steal our cat. One of those guys is the new Wing Command Chief. I may be pissed, but pissed doesn’t make me as stupid as it used to.
Oh, and one more thing? The fact that I would never walk around base housing if it wasn’t for Max isn’t lost on me one single bit. I don’t know about you, but my God has a very twisted sense of humor.
Max had a good first night for the most part. We got a big ol’ wire kennel for him for when we’re out of the house and for bedtime. This is NOT cruel to animals. The folks at the shelter recommended it and everything I’ve read says it’s the best way to relieve seperation anxiety for your dogs. He’s got a safe place to just flop and it gives Gypsy cat a break from having to avoid him.
We originally had the kennel in the living room but he cried so loud and started howling that I moved it into our bedroom for now. He settled right down. After I got up and fed Gypsy, I took him out in the backyard so he could relieve himself and he got tons of praise for waiting his turn. The thing about kenneling, is that a dog won’t mess in his “den.” He’s happy having his own space. You’re happy that he isn’t peeing on the rug. Pretty good for a hundred bucks and some change worth of steel, plastic and wool (pad for the bottom).
After we came back in, I had my coffee and then got the leader out for our first long walk of the day. Dogs that are his size and his high energy level, must have a lot of exercise or they’ll bounce off the walls. I don’t think I’m going to have any problems getting rid of the extra pounds that I’ve wanted to lose. Once I get my time down on the mile and a half, I’m thinking I’m going to build up to about five miles a day on the days I’m running. I don’t think I’ll wear Max out and he looks like he’s going to be an amazing running partner. He doesn’t heel too well yet, but I’m sure he’s going to catch on pretty quickly.
When I was mowing the lawn this morning, (yeah, it might be Father’s Day, but he base yard Nazis don’t care) Max was whining at the door. Beautiful Wife thought he might need to pee again so she brought him out. Nope didn’t need to pee, wanted to follow me back and forth across the lawn. Somehow I’ve become his primary human. Part of me thinks that it’s because I moved the kennel, the other part may have been the bit of beef jerkey I slipped him this morning.
He’s not eating much. He nibbles his kibble even after a long walk. I’m not sure if he got shoved aside at the shelter or if he’s still not sure about his surroundings or what’s going on. We’ll keep an eye on him though.
Gypsy has finally come out from under the bed, but is spending most of her time in the cupboard above the refridgerator or on the top “limb” of her “cat tree.” Max whines at her now and then, but isn’t getting too close.
And that’s Max’s day on this Father’s Day. A pretty good present all the way around.