#7 Of Telling A Truth That Isn't Believed, A Lie That Is

Right now there is a 3 ½ foot Ball Python sitting in my bathtub in a box from Saks Fifth Avenue (delivery from a great sale!)  and there are 2 white mice sitting in the box with him. The snake is named Arty and he is approximately 3-years-old and he hasn’t eaten in 3 months. He was born in the Bronx and we got him through and ad on Craig’s List.

 The mice are stinking up the bathroom with their poop and pee and they are lucky, to say the least, that he hasn’t eaten them both. Frankly, I want the mice out but don’t have the heart to let them roam 95^th street on a freezing night. It smells goddamn awful, like a pet store.

When Arty is in the mood to eat he will attack quickly, squeeze the mouse to death until it’s little red eyes are dull. He unhinges his jaw and starting from the head, he pulls the mouse into his slender body where I am sure his bones are smashing the mouse into a usable food item. He is an efficient hunter and Mother Nature is proud every time he attacks his prey.

But not today. We have never ever had mice guests spend the night and I am not happy about it.

Our cat Chesster has never met Arty and he is spending some time next to the bathtub sniffing the mice. The big joke is, “so will Arty eat Chesster or Chesster eat Arty? Ha ha ha ha!!!” We worry more for Chesster.

We fill the bathtub with hot water and drain it to make the tub nice and warm so Arty will be comfortable. Arty has some nice plush toys that he likes to bat around- especially the pink kitty.

When he does eat- usually 2 mice per meal-if left unattended he will make his way out of the bathtub and wrap himself around a pipe behind the toilet. It is hard to untangle him.

Greg walks into the bathroom. “ Hey, there is only one mouse!”

NEW’S ALERT: CHESSTER CATCHES MOUSE!

Greg just grabbed him and held him over the toilet.

“Chesster! Let go of the mouse! Let go, Chesster!”

I go in and can’t believe my eyes. He his gently shaking Chesster and the mouse is wiggling in Chesster’s maw and little pink toenails are working hard to find someplace to grip for dear life.

Truly pathetic.

“Hold on!” I say, “I want to take a picture.”
The next thing I know the toilet is flushing and I see the mouse spiral down into his watery grave. It is wrong. Really unfair. The mouse wasn’t put on this earth to die this way.

“Chesster! Bad cat!” Greg says in a stern voice.

“Jesus, Greg, he’s a CAT. What did you expect?”

So one mouse remains in the box in the tub with the snake. Tomorrow the mouse will return to Pet Land, alone.

Pet Land always takes returned live mice and gives a receipt for credit towards the next purchase. They always ask how the snake is doing. Generous and sincere.