“And
now for the rest of the story,” quoting Paul Harvey, the once popular radio
commentator, as he enticed his listeners to continue following his comments, I
offer the conclusion to my “cockroach encounter.”
You
may wonder why I panicked at something everyone deals with almost every day if
you live in the coastal areas of our country. A back story that justifies my
obvious preoccupation with crawling things may help clarify the fact. Of
course, in the spring a new generation of lizards (if they have more legs than
I, they are lizards although different nomenclature may apply) begin to appear
inside the house, either by their own curious wanderings or being dragged in by
the cats. They are not welcome in my space, and I’m very vocal about moving
them out of my sight.
In
addition, my grand-daughter owns a pet corn snake, Spartacus, pretty orange
color, about four feet long, I think, who lives in an aquarium-type cage in her
bedroom. He’s eight-years-old; born in captivity. Tasha returned from vacation on Wednesday
night about three weeks ago. Caring for Spartacus became Robyn’s responsibility
in Tasha’s absence. She checked on Spartacus on Monday evening verifying he
looked fine, and certainly rested peacefully in his cage.
However,
on Thursday morning, Tasha came to my room, obviously distraught. Walking back
and forth, she began the conversation.
“Mommo
(her childhood name for me), I don’t want you to panic or anything. I have to
tell you something.”
“Okay,
what’s wrong?” I asked, as visions of “what happened to you in Colombia?” began
to race through my mind.
“Well,
I don’t want you to panic,” she continued to walk back and forth, “Spartacus
isn’t in his cage!”
Relieved
that Spartacus aroused her panic rather than Colombia, I began to wrap my mind
around the possibility of a snake slinking around the house, and may be in my
space. Asking for a powerful flashlight, she planned to search my rooms since
the search of her room confirmed his freedom.
“How
did he get out? I asked, as I quickly provided her with the most powerful light
I could find.
“It
looks like the cats may have fallen through the screen on the cage.” How could we be so careless with a snake? I thought. With a futile search of my rooms, Tasha
moved into the rest of the house. She hunted throughout the day without
success.
Trying
to be as gracious as possible considering the fact, a snake (although corn
snakes are harmless constrictors, and Spartacus lived his entire life in a cage
with human care and touch his only experience) is still at
large hiding somewhere. To me, a snake is a snake, and I don’t want one near me
even if he’s a pet. I couldn’t turn off the light and go to bed that night.
Tasha didn’t go to bed either. She spent the night tracking the snake armed
with information about “how pet snakes react when free,” along with my powerful
flashlight. He remained elusive, in hiding, or whatever you want to call the
situation when a snake is at large in your house.
Tasha
continued to pursue Spartacus during the day on Friday without success. She
learned he would follow the walls, look for food and water, remain hidden
during the daylight hours, and he could go anywhere he could get his head. I
walked around a bit dazed from “no sleep” always seeing something moving out of
the corner of my eye with every step.
At
last, on Friday evening as the family watched TV, they noticed the cats seemed
anxious while stalking the row of books shelves in the room. Tasha had checked the area several times;
didn’t think he could crawl under the book shelves. With the cats’ unrelenting
behavior, they moved the book shelves to find Spartacus curled up in the
darkness. Tasha grabbed him and returned him to security. Since I remained
unaware of the action in the family room, she burst into my room to announce,
“We found Spartacus!” I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but I’m absolutely certain,
he could cause me to hurt myself. Therefore, I felt relief the saga had ended
with everyone okay, including Spartacus, and the household would sleep that
night.
Now,
back to the cockroach. Perhaps, in view of my last few weeks of crawling things
experience, you will have more sympathy for me as I endure the aggressive
critter invasion. To remind you, he crawled under the dresser, and remained out
of sight until the next evening. I took a shower thinking to try to sleep that
night. When leaving the shower, I looked down being certain to navigate the
step. Just in front of me a quite beautiful, as nature’s creatures can be,
Albino Salamander sat, fearlessly, looking up at me. I appreciate their contribution to nature,
and I know they are harmless, but I DONOT want them in my space. I confined him
under a glass until someone could move him OUT.
Continuing
my task of settling down for the night, I reached to open my sock drawer. There
he sat stretching his head upward as if to say, “I’m still here!” Shocked
again, I screamed and jumped back. He ran and finding no traction on the rolled
edge of the dresser, he fell to the floor. He ran like a steak of lightning
under my bed. OH NO!! I thought, he’s under my bed. The bed is on wheels
and I moved it out so I could see. There he sat waiting for me. I tried to hit
him with my slipper, but I must have swept him out of sight. Gone again, but still in my room. I sat
down almost in tears. How can I be so
disturbed by this creature? In a few minutes, he brazenly crawled out
into my sight and stopped in front of me. I swiped at him again and missed. He
ran behind the piano. So very tired, I
fell into bed trying to put him out of my mind.
I hoped I had hurt him as he seemed injured when he crawled behind the
piano.
He
didn’t die behind the piano. The next evening I came into my room to find the
cockroach sitting in front of my chair. I stood still trying to think what to
do. You rascal, you have beaten me, I
thought, as I remembered I have nice strong shoes on this evening. So I,
carefully, stepped forward and came down on him with my foot. I felt him crunch,
and I shivered as I stepped back away from him. He appeared dead. I grabbed my
phone and took his picture. AH HA they
will believe me now. There really is a cockroach here, and I have the evidence.
He
moved; his antenna swept back and forth. I grabbed a paper towel, picked him up,
and quickly dropped him in the toilet. He began to swim vigorously, and almost
made it out before I could hit the handle to flush him down. I admit I checked
to see if he had returned at least twice before I accepted the cockroach is
dead – the saga is over.
Please,
God, no more crawly things for a spell. I need some rest.
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