Motherf*cking Snakes in My Motherf*cking House

As you may know, we have a cat. His name is Simon and he is at least fourteen years old. He's been a part of our household since 1998. In that time he's suffered more than his fair share of medical issues, which have required many thousands of dollars spent on his not-so-speedy recoveries. He only has half of his teeth, and his skin is prone to flaking and scabbing and sometimes his farts are so awful they clear a room. He is oooooooooooold. But we love him. He was the first pet SOB and I chose together. Most evenings after the kids go to bed he'll join us on the couch for some Game of Thrones or Mad Men or Modern Family. If SOB is on call he'll occasionally watch Glee with me, but it's a little too saccharine for his taste.

On Sunday night we were all feeling good so we snuggled up together after the hockey game. As we scratched and petted his small head, we talked about how he seemed to be slowing down. Maybe, perhaps, this would be his last summer. He listened intently and then farted at us.

The next day our realtor stopped by. There was some paperwork I needed to sign (no, we didn't sell the house) and since she was in the area she stopped by. She had her youngest child in the car, so she wasn't planning to come in for long. She stepped into the foyer as I looked for a pen, and the cat slid in along side her. Neither one of us paid him much attention, since he's an indoor/outdoor kind of cat.

I was fumbling around in our desk looking for a pen when I heard her gasp. I looked up, and there was my cat with a five foot long snake in his mouth. And this snake, while injured, was definitely not dead.

Now that he had our attention, Simon nonchalantly walked into the kitchen and dropped the not-dead snake under my kitchen table.

Now please let me explain that I actually like snakes. A whole lot, even! I would have one as a pet. But what I don't like is pissed-off-injured-bleeding snakes on my kitchen carpet. I've heard tell that snake blood can stain like no other.

This poor little fella or gal was trying to hiss and come across as threatening, but anyone with eyes could see it was in a bad way. I didn't want to reach under the table and risk being bitten, naturally, but I couldn't  quite figure out how to get this reptile out of my house. Luckily, as I mentioned, my realtor was here and she was quite the helpful lady. She suggested tongs, which reminded me of the reacher/grabber we had inherited with the house, which was just a room away.

As gingerly as I could, I grabbed the injured snake and deposited it near the bushes in my front yard. It stayed where I put it for at least ten minutes, and then disappeared. Part of me hopes that the snake made a full recovery, but the realistic part of me knows that the injuries were substantial. I can only hope that Simon helped to end the poor animal's suffering quickly.

The moral of this story? Don't ever think your pet is reaching the twilight of their years. They will do something drastic to prove you wrong. Long live Simon!