It was the voices suddenly lowered to a near whisper that caught my attention. In a house of rambunctious boys, whispers meant I needed to really pay attention.
Walking out of the office into the living room I was greeted by the sight portrayed in the picture above. The unwelcome visitor had found its way in through a screen torn the previous night by a cat refusing to stay outdoors. Our eldest son stood poised, BB gun in hand, aiming at the unsuspecting intruder.
"Wouldn't it be wise to have a machete handy, just in case?" I asked as I scooped up our miniature doberman pincher in my arms, poised myself, but poised to make a mad dash for the bedroom if the snake moved from its perch.
They obliged my need for a back-up plan, but my fears were unwarranted. With machete at hand, Joe took the shot and the snake fell dead to the cement floor below. Another unwelcomed intruder disposed of.
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