Natalie Whatley

I’ve contracted a slithering case of the heebie jeebies. If you’re in snake-oil sales and have a potential cure, you know where to find me.

I’m always thrilled when something semi-exciting happens in my life –gives me something to write about—but I’d gladly skip this “episode” to regain my peace of mind.

Since I spent last week recounting my fear of public speaking and how what psychologists refer to as “immersion therapy” forced me to get over it, I’m embarrassed to say that another of my fears has taken the spotlight this week. I will not immerse myself in this one.

I grew up with brothers and now have two boys of my own; reptiles, regardless of whether I like them or not, have always been a part of my life. I’m not the pass-out, run-away-shrieking-at-the-mere-sight type, but I keep my distance.  (Imagine my horror when my younger son “clipped” lizards to his ears and took great delight in freaking me out with his dangly “earrings”. They were alive and biting his ears to hold on!)

The mighty hunter... all wore out

He earns his keep by bringing lizards, skinks (which I recently learned emit a toxin from their tails that make cats sick; Shadow hasn’t made the connection between his apparent stomach upset and what he dined upon), and small snakes (no longer than six inches) to the mat at the back door. I’ve watched him catch his prey.  He carries on as if he’s fighting an anaconda before taking a victory lap around the yard with something small hanging from his teeth. 

“Now that’s a snake!”  Words I never want to hear uttered inside my house again. “It must be 18 inches long!” I began feeling faint. Eighteen inches, 18 feet, one in the same when we’re talking snakes.  I had been in that bathroom barefooted a couple of times that morning. How long had it been there? Had that thing made its way across my toes while . . . You would have heard me across town, and Jeff would be repairing sheetrock. “It’s a harmless garter snake,” he said holding it far too close. I don’t care. 

I’m telling you this story in the event you end up on my jury after I’m hauled in for assault. Jeff has been very busy at work this week and hasn’t had the time or energy to be up to any of his usual shenanigans. Know that I can finish the man’s sentences; he will capitalize on my fragile mental state for amusement.

If you see him with a black eye it’s because he thought it would be funny as I dozed off to recreate what a slithering snake would feel like making its way up my leg or the side of my face. I know you all will understand and do the right thing when I stand before you to account for my actions.

Jeff, don’t mess with a girl suffering from a case of the slithering heebie jeebies. She will strike!

© 2009 Natalie Whatley

This will probably read like an episode of the Tom and Jerry cartoon. Such is my life –never a dull moment.

Gasp! Pant! “My hands are shaky and my knees are weak! I can’t seem to stand on my own two feet! . . . My heart beats so it scares me to death!”  I just ran upstairs faster than I ever thought possible. (Mental note: My workouts need to become more strenuous if I’m going to survive many more of these moments.) It’s quite startling to hear what sounds like a herd of buffalo upstairs followed by a loud CRASH . . . particularly when the herd is at school.

While enjoying some peaceful moments home alone, save for the dog wrapped around my feet, a cat, and two caged hamsters . . . You know where this is going, don’t you?  I recognized the sound even though I’d never heard it before. Who knew a wood-shaving explosion would make such racket?

Let me back up for a moment and remind you that Shadow, the black cat, arrived at the Whatley Estate on Halloween 2008 and adopted us. In return, I forced him to give up his tomcat status. He doesn’t have much to do with me, and I guess I can’t blame him. His distance aside, I love and take care of him in the same fashion as the rest of my clan.

Then, three months later and in a very weak moment, I allowed my daughter to buy a dwarf hamster. The following day, I was back in Petco with the middle child purchasing yet another hamster. It would’ve been unfair for the youngest to have her own pet in her room, or so the middle child protested, anyway.

Now, back to the show. Halfway up the stairs, one crazed, black feline shot past me making a beeline for the back door. Seeing no rodent dangling from his teeth, I allowed him to pass (like I could have stopped him –guilty feet move fast). Topping the stairs, I glanced down the hall and spotted the wreckage –wood shavings and a tangle of hamster-cage pieces. It was bad enough knowing my daughter would be inconsolable, but worse, I was going to have to admit Jeff was right. Elvis, that’s the hamster’s name (don’t ask me, I just work here), was nowhere to be seen.   

Back downstairs, I glared at one wild-looking beast as I scooped him up and placed him outside.  He didn’t put up a fight, and for some reason I sensed he was sorry. Prior to “the incident” I’ve found him on many occasions perched in front of the cages seeming to enjoy just watching his little friends. I don’t know, maybe he was eyeing lunch as Jeff predicted when the hamsters came home.

Lunch???

Cleaning supplies in hand, I approached the ruins. Much to my surprise, I saw movement in a pile of wood shavings. Elvis was alive! He looked a little stunned; I was afraid to pick him up thinking he’d certainly be in “defense” mode and sink his teeth into my hand, so I gently touched the top of his head with my finger. Before moving the wood shavings to get a better look, I prayed the little guy had no puncture wounds. He checked out just fine . . . Whew! Close call. I performed the “happy dance” because a) Elvis did not leave the building, and b) I wouldn’t have to tell Jeff he was right. 

Since “The King” was only “All Shook Up”, can we let this be our little secret? Thank you… thank you, very much!

Elvis

© 2009 Natalie Whatley

There’s a new man in my house. This is on top of my husband, two sons, and a male dog. My daughter and I are surfing a testosterone tidal wave! I’m trying not to become too attached (which I never in a million years thought would be a problem – I don’t need one more living thing to take care of), because I’m hoping his loved ones are looking for him, or he’ll just decide to go home one day. The prospects of either scenario playing out seem to be dwindling.

This story has somewhat of an odd beginning, or maybe it’s just a very strange coincidence, but “Shadow”, the completely black cat, with the most beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen, showed up at the Whatley estate Halloween morning.  He’s young, possibly four-six months old, and I have no idea where he came from. However, he seems pretty convinced of where he’s staying.

When I went out to put my daughter on the bus that Friday morning, he ran out from the flowerbed and melted into my little girl. It seemed they’d always known each other. It was rather sweet, and I recognized the “can we keep each other?” look in both pairs of eyes.  We petted him while waiting for the bus, and I set him back in the flowerbed on my way in – only to have the same scenario play out all over again when I took the next child out to the bus stop.

 I told my soft-hearted son the kitty must be someone’s beloved pet, as he seemed well socialized and sported a cute little collar with a bell. Kitty was returned to the flowerbed after my son’s departure. I went about my day not giving dear kitty another thought. He’s not the first, and I’m reasonably certain not the last, to view my flowerbeds as a litter box. He’d be moving along soon enough. 

Greeting my daughter that afternoon as she got off the bus, I was about to answer her question regarding the cat’s whereabouts when he sprang from the flowerbed and began climbing up her leg. She remained outside with him until her brother came home. Minutes later, I was confronted by two very serious children concerned over the fate of a small black cat left to fend for itself on Halloween night. Ugh! Who taught them to think things through in such a manner? We put kitty and a dish of water on the back patio…just to keep him safe Halloween night. 

An ensuing cold front, swarms of mosquitoes, and neighborhood cats bent on making my visitor understand that MY backyard was THEIR territory, caused me to invite him indoors.  I’ve since learned he’s house-broken, loves to play, and that curling up in the arms of a human is just about all he wants in life…well, besides food.  He has a very healthy appetite and has grown noticeably during his two week stay.

“Found” signs have been posted. I’ve asked around, checked the “The Baytown Sun” and called Baytown Animal Control to see if anyone is looking for him. I don’t know if he wandered away from home and was unable to return, or if he was a stowaway in the back of truck and rode too far. I can’t imagine someone dumping him; he’s just too darn sweet.

He did make some pretty big waves when I forced him to bathe.  In time he’ll realize (they all do) that boys and big waves don’t scare me. I’ll happily reunite him with his original family. You all know where to find me. Pounce on it quickly because I’m catching myself humming Sinatra’s version of “Me And My Shadow”.

© 2008 Natalie Whatley