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 95th 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.
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.
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