Armchair_QB
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- Jun 11, 2003
- Messages
- 36,813
Sorry, no link. This is a rea life experience.
I'm sitting at home last night about 11 p.m., minding my own business and watching the Cubs game. Mrs. Armchair is in the bedroom asleep. My mental cursing of Tin Lincecum is interrupted by what can only be described as the sound of a buzzer going off in the kitchen. A loud buzzer. My first thought was, "I don't remember Mrs. Armchair telling me she had anything in the oven."
I extract myself from the couch and wander into the kitchen where I find one of our cats crouching in attack position over near a plant stand in the corner by the kitchen table. I suddenly have a very bad feeling about this. I walk over and try to pick up the cat, which freaks out and runs away. From a safe distance away I peer under the stand and what do I see?
A rattlesnake. About 2.5 feet long, as it turns out, curled up under the stand. This is not good.
Now you're probably asking, how does a ****ing rattlesnake get into your house? Well, we live out in the country and there is a very high "critter factor" in our area. Coyotes, wild pigs, snakes, hawks, field rats, you name it, we have 'em. We don't however, have them in the house, til now.
My wife is awake at this point and when I tell her what I've found she immediately throws both cats in the bedroom and closes the door. My first suggestion, which was a stupid one, was to get a pillowcase and I'll try and coax it in. With thoughts of having to drive her idiot husband to the emergency room with a snake bite, Mrs. Armchair calls 911 hoping Animal Control would come out. Turns out they don't work 24-7 but they are sending a county deputy out. At this point I'm thinking he may have something we can use to trap it and get it out of the house.
Not exactly.
Deputy gets there a few minutes later and one of the first things he tells us is, "I don't like snakes."
Great.
We talk it over and decide on a plan of attack. I go out to the shed and grab a couple of shovels and we go to work. I pinned it down with one shovel and he went to work on the head with the other. I'll spare you the graphic details but I will say it made a hell of a mess before we were done and I scraped the pieces into a garbage bag.
No moral to the story or anything. Just thought I'd share a night at Che Armchair with all of you.
I'm sitting at home last night about 11 p.m., minding my own business and watching the Cubs game. Mrs. Armchair is in the bedroom asleep. My mental cursing of Tin Lincecum is interrupted by what can only be described as the sound of a buzzer going off in the kitchen. A loud buzzer. My first thought was, "I don't remember Mrs. Armchair telling me she had anything in the oven."
I extract myself from the couch and wander into the kitchen where I find one of our cats crouching in attack position over near a plant stand in the corner by the kitchen table. I suddenly have a very bad feeling about this. I walk over and try to pick up the cat, which freaks out and runs away. From a safe distance away I peer under the stand and what do I see?
A rattlesnake. About 2.5 feet long, as it turns out, curled up under the stand. This is not good.
Now you're probably asking, how does a ****ing rattlesnake get into your house? Well, we live out in the country and there is a very high "critter factor" in our area. Coyotes, wild pigs, snakes, hawks, field rats, you name it, we have 'em. We don't however, have them in the house, til now.
My wife is awake at this point and when I tell her what I've found she immediately throws both cats in the bedroom and closes the door. My first suggestion, which was a stupid one, was to get a pillowcase and I'll try and coax it in. With thoughts of having to drive her idiot husband to the emergency room with a snake bite, Mrs. Armchair calls 911 hoping Animal Control would come out. Turns out they don't work 24-7 but they are sending a county deputy out. At this point I'm thinking he may have something we can use to trap it and get it out of the house.
Not exactly.
Deputy gets there a few minutes later and one of the first things he tells us is, "I don't like snakes."
Great.
We talk it over and decide on a plan of attack. I go out to the shed and grab a couple of shovels and we go to work. I pinned it down with one shovel and he went to work on the head with the other. I'll spare you the graphic details but I will say it made a hell of a mess before we were done and I scraped the pieces into a garbage bag.
No moral to the story or anything. Just thought I'd share a night at Che Armchair with all of you.
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