Samson and the s-s-surprise visitor
Published 12:00 am Saturday, October 28, 2006
Always remember to leave a light on inside your house whenever you know you are going to be coming in after dark.
That's just common sense, right?
The only problem comes whenever you have an unexpected something to arise, and it keeps you away from home until way after dark.
I knew the second I flipped on the living room light that something was wrong.
Picture this in your mind: I'm fumbling in the pitch blackness for my front door key. I finally get inside and run my hand all along the wall trying to find the light switch. Ah, there it is.
On comes the light.
Then my heart stops.
Samson, my 21-pound tomcat, is not sprawled in some regal position atop the couch or on a pillow or even stretched across the living room floor, eyes blinking at me wondering where I've been all day.
He's crouched beside the entertainment center, muscles taut, completely frozen and completely concentrating on something that is very low to the ground.
This can't be good, I immediately think to myself.
“Sam! What is it, boy?”
All of a sudden, Sam jumps to the right, looking intently all under the entertainment center. He then jumps back to the basket of books beside the entertainment center, all the while staying close to the floor.
He hasn't moved that fast and purposefully in, I don't know, years.
BAM! That giant paw hit the floor so hard and loud that I knew he meant business.
But, when he ran, and I mean ran, to the other side of the entertainment center and is in complete attack mode, I finally saw what he was after.
Now, I don't remember personally inviting a snake to my home. I couldn't remember if I had sent it a personal invitation or not, and I certainly knew that I had not received an R.S.V.P. from it, so it could not have been some social faux pas on my part.
“Get him, Sam!” was about all I could croak out.
Now, granted, it was only about a foot long, but it might as well have been a ten-foot boa constrictor for all I cared.
BAM! There goes that giant paw again.
I went running into the laundry room to get the broom.
At that point, I didn't have much choice.
Plus, I was too afraid to let our unwanted guest out of my sight. Samson kept him from going under the chair and kept him in plain view.
With its mouth wide open and aiming straight for Samson, I slammed the broom handle down on him and watched as he began to violently curl up. He obviously didn't take too kindly to this treatment, but I kept repeating it.
Believe it or not, Sam stayed right there and wouldn't leave the snake's sideŠnor mine.
BAM! Again, that giant paw.
BAM! The silver broom handle.
When I finally felt that the snake was at least unconscious, I pushed him out the front door, all the while beating him some more.
That's what you get when you don't send an R.S.V.P. to my house, not that I don't take kindly to unexpected visitors, you see.
By the way, Samson has a new email address. It's firstname.lastname@example.org.
Regina Grayson is managing editor of The Luverne Journal. She can be reached at 335-3541 or by email: email@example.com.