Snake in the Grass

I got home from work at 5:15 last night. These days that means the sun has not quite set and it is still warm enough for a stroll. I fit the red harness on the bouncing Basenji, hooked on her leash and off we went. There are a few routes we take, but today I wanted to head to the private, fenced-in soccer field that is about a half mile from my house. It is a practice field used by Cal-Lutheran University, which sits right next to our housing complex. I have been able to slip inside the gate a few times this past week because the pad-lock has just been hanging on the chain, unlocked, almost asking to be opened. Cali gets excited as we approach this field and starts to pull on the leash the minute she realizes we are heading in that direction. This is the one place (other than the public dog-park) that she can be unleashed to run free like a wild animal.

On the way to the field, we walk on the sidewalk that has a lush patch of ivy next to it that Cali usually enjoys frolicking in. Today, all she could do was pull the leash to the farthest it could go, trying to get the final destination as fast as possible. Being the Lizard Huntress that she is, Cali made her usual pouncing motion towards the ivy. Lizards scamper so fast when they see her coming that I can never see them. This time, all that was left of the chase was a pup with a worry, wrinkled look, staring intently in the greenery. I approached her to see what she was looking at and there it was: a long, scaly, brown snake. I looked at the snake in the ivy long enough to tell what it was and that it was at least 3 feet long and then we quickly walked away, much to Cali’s dismay.

I absolutely hate snakes, lizards—just about anything that creeps, crawls or slithers. I have had a few encounters with such things…

I remember being at home in New Hampshire one summer with Ryan when we were still in college. My parents were having their patio assembled so the driveway was all dug up and covered in sand. Ryan and I were just about to take a walk and my mom opened the door to tell us what time dinner would be. When I turned back to answer, I saw a garter snake slithering by the front door right beneath my mom’s feet. I totally freaked out as she looked down and proceeded to close and lock the doors as if keeping the snake from using its opposable thumbs to turn the door knob and enter the house.

Before moving to California, I visited Ryan for an entire summer and stayed in his parent’s guest house while doing an internship in Los Angeles. There is a breeze-way that connects the entrance of the guest house to the laundry room in his parent’s house. One night, while walking (barefoot) from the guest house to the big house, I looked down while placing my left food on the cement and saw it land less than an inch away from a shiny, black skink with a head the size of my fist. Ok, maybe it was not THAT big, but it was definitely bigger and longer than your average lizard; it did have the body-shape of a lizard and the slimy-ness of a snake.

I froze for what felt like an eternity. The skink did not move or twitch or anything, it just laid there, next to my foot. Inside I was screaming, “Run away!” but my body could not move. Then finally I was able to take another step and scurried inside, slamming the laundry door behind me. I ran upstairs crying to Ryan that he had to get rid of it. How could I possibly be expected to go outside again until it was gone? And how could I be assured that it would never return? I did not sleep a wink that night, I simply pulled the blankets all around me while I laid in a ball in the middle of the bed until I felt every part of my body was safe from a skink attack.

After the near death experience with the snake that my dog and I survived, we finally arrived to the practice field to find that it was actually locked. The doors could be pushed & pulled, but not enough for a squirmy Basenji to squeeze through to the other side (and believe me, she tried).

This entry was posted on Friday, March 28th, 2008 at 10:47 am and is filed under Cali. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

Leave a Reply