For years now, in summer I’ve slept in the downstairs bedroom of my 2-storey apartment with the back sliding door to the garden jammed open a few inches for coolness. Around 1 a.m. the perfume from the white ginger blossoms blooming near the steps would start to filter inside, and along with it would come beautifully cool, dew laden air. After the insane heat of the day, it was like being touched by the hand of God.
Quoth the raven, “Nevermore.”
A few nights ago, as I was watching an episode of The Mentalist on TV, I was distracted by the strange behaviour of my younger cat Tim, who was sitting on top of the air cooler near the back door. He kept looking down at the floor between the cooler and the door, and back to me. As time went on, he grew more and more agitated. Suddenly, he leapt to his feet and puffed himself up. I thought it must be the tom from across the road, come to torment him: Ha ha, look at you, what a pansy, to have to be locked in at night!
But instead of rushing forward — Tim’s neutered, but he likes a good fight, I’ve got the vet bills to prove it — Tim came back to me.
He looked horrified.
Now this is a cat that has brought in six-foot-long pythons in the past, and once, a yellow-bellied black of about five feet, which my daughter, up on holidays from Melbourne, inadvertently took a shower with. Says I to myself, If Tim’s horrified, maybe I should be horrified too. I jumped to my feet to close the back door against the rabid dog, vengeful tom, whatever, but when the sliding door reached three inches, I hit an obstruction. The door wouldn’t close any further.
What was stopping it? I couldn’t see. The only light was behind me and the air cooler threw a shadow into the space between it and the back door, and my eyes aren’t very good, anyway. I peered over, still holding the door as shut as I could.
This isn’t me! It’s Tanya Bennett
Photo by Manly Daily, n.d.
The python raised his head and looked up at me, a sort of: What are you doing? look. Python? Correction, make that humungous python, one of the biggest I’d ever seen, already halfway into the room. He had come for the old cat who was sleeping on the corner of the bed near the back door. I grabbed both cats and flung them into the living room, snatched up my mobile phone, turned off the TV and fled. I closed the door that led from the study to the rest of the apartment, and jammed the space underneath with a length of wood held in place with two heavy pot plants.
Now I’ve lived with pythons before, always against my will, mind you. There was one in the ceiling of the house I moved into in the bush in 1978. But he was a gentleman, he had guidelines. He never came down to hunt mice and bush rats until after nine at night when I and the children were safely tucked up in bed. (With no car, no phone and no power, there was little to do in the bush once the sun went down.) This South Golden Beach python was singularly lacking in manners.
The wildlife people came out next day, but they couldn’t find him. Perhaps, they said, he went back out in the night through the back door I’d left open for him. Perhaps, perhaps … The back room leads to a space under the stairs crammed with things I’ve accumulated over the last 14 years, he could have been anywhere there among the boxes.
But they thought he’d gone, so I locked the back door into the garden and rang for a repairman for the back screen door. I also needed a screen door for my upstairs bedroom; I’d had no screen door upstairs for years – with a mosquito net over the bed, I’d never felt the need of one. Now I did! This place is subtropical, surrounded by lush vegetation and big trees, the python could easily get into my upstairs bedroom unless I kept the glass sliding door closed, which turns the room into an inferno in summer.
And there the situation stands. I come in here to work on the computer for an hour or so a day, and I’ve begun to clear out under the stairs, a job that was more that overdue. But I won’t let the cats in here until I’ve completely torn the place apart. I’ve lost cats to pythons before, it’s not a nice experience.
All up, the event produced some good outcomes: I get two much needed screen doors, and the back bedroom gets its first really good going-over in 14 years. I’m all set for whatever the Mayan calendar cares to throw at me.
Now it’s on to sorting through the 35 years of papers I’ve been carrying around, and the 14 years of useless objects I’ve collected while my head was stuck in a computer, writing.
Danielle de Valera 
Eeek! Not a nice visitor to have, something that size would try and crush just about anything for a meal. Good thing you had the screen doors repaired.
A couple of years ago I sat down at my computer, hands on the keyboard, and a snake fell off on my lap. I surged to my feet while performing some very interesting yodeling and quickly threw an empty box over the snake. DH wasn’t at home so I yodeled some more, out the window this time, while keeping an eye on the box. Son in-law came running followed by our daughter. All three of us stood staring at the box … what to do now. I couldn’t possibly leave the situation like that, I mean how was I going to write. I got dear son in-law to quickly lift the box, while I threw a towel over the snake. Then I grabbed towel and snake and tossed both out the window. We watched as the pretty green tree snake headed into the shrubbery.
Now and then I have the sudden urge to check things out before I sit down 🙂
Yikes! At least it was only a tree snake – though you don’t know that in the heat of the horrible moment. I swear by the old trick of putting a bucket or box over them, that’s how I got rid of the 3 Tim brought in in the past.
Wow! Thats enough to put americans off coming here for life! 🙂 Bless the cat for the warning. Great read. Enjoy the screens and a snake free cat happy xmas x
Thanks so much, tiger. Apart from the shock, it’s been good – lots of reorganising and cleaning out. My place is like a Rubic’s cube at the moment with pieces of furniture everywhere. I know where I’m going but getting there is a heavy task.
That’s a bit more snake than I could tolerate. A small snake once made it into the trailer my husband and I were living in at the time, and that was excitement enough. Florida and Australia have much in common where wildlife is concerned.
I was going to say, Catana, that I can handle small snakes, but really it depends on what kind they are. Over here, the worst ones are the browns, which aren’t really that big – about five feet at the most. Of these, the tiger snakes are the most dangerous; they will actually attack you during the mating season so we are all very careful when walking on rough tracks in the spring.
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It’s probably even worse for the cat.
The object of El Python’s entry slept through it all. I cant say the same for Tim, though, hes still traumatised, never stops watching the back door when we’re in the room at night watching TV and jumps if I touch him when he’s not expecting it. .
[…] Why it happened took me a while to figure out. In twenty years of living here, I’ve never had a snake come in of its own volition, except for the python that came in thru the back door one night a couple of years ago, see: https://danielledevalera.wordpress.com/2012/12/11/quoth-the-raven-nevermore/ […]