He and his beloved cat were out strolling in the desert, seemingly soulfully communicating with god and good weather. They’d left the city behind for the American southwest high deserts, arroyos, and cactus flats.
He was a humble snake hunter, while his cat companion, Stella, was a female rescue from the big city shelter. She was quickly learning the ropes in her new role as his sidekick, and though she was still suspending fully her trust of him, his facilitating her escape from the cages at the humane society counted for alot. She was now smelling creosote and sage aromas, with occasional whiffs of field mice, coyotes, and any number of other potential nemesis or prey.
She felt safe when she was with him, and that’s what mattered more than anything else, except of course at feeding time. He was consistent and kept to schedule with the victuals. And he shared his trailer bunk with her, though she was miffed at his habit of tossing and turning in the night. What more could a feline ask for?
Happy to be away from the same old town up north he’d grown weary of, he strolled happily, with her leading or following, with her own pattern of starts, stops, sniffings, diggings, and ponderings of ineffables. The sun shone bright, while raptors circled overhead, apparently dismayed to see the snake hunter running interference for his companion kitty. The circle of life would go on though, for as mysterious as the cosmos seemed to them, exciting pursuit of fresh kill and thermals were a daily routine in their lives.
A hole in the desert scrub next to a sagebrush caught the attention of Stella, so she approached near and wiggled her nose in curiosity. Scent of serpent! She backed up carefully, hissed to alert the snakehunter, and stood guard as he approached to investigate.
“Not today Stella. This is our day off,” he commented to her, then continued his stroll. His thoughts this day were of a sprite he’d grown fond of back home, and mild sadness that they’d parted ways without hugs. But enough of that. A snake hunter can’t afford to be sentimental!
“We might as well go home Stella,” he murmured as he memorized the location of the serpent lair.
Sunset was nearing, so they ambled back to the campsite, where their tiny trailer and a nap and meal awaited them. He opened the door and Stella bounded in, to then suddenly stiffen with puffed up fir, while she hissed and howled with as much drama as a fighting tom.
The snake hunter saw movement under the covers of his bunk, squinted intently while formulating theories in his lizard brain, then reached for the undulating blanket, and swept it from the bunk.
Coincidental to Stella’s primal lunge at the bunk he spied a coiled and threatening western diamondback rattlesnake sprung up ready to strike! In a blink of an eye Stella slashed with razor claws, then with stiletto fangs and iron jaw nearly beheaded the hapless serpent. In the time needed for the snake hunter to fully percieve the threat, she’d neutralized the serpent and was already licking blood from her paw!
“Good kitty Stella! We’ll be eatin’ fine the next few days, thanks to you!”
CP Butchvarov 2024
