“You can’t train a good snake dog. They’re just born that way.”

These were the words of wisdom Bob Haenel gave me many years ago. I was telling the newsroom about our dog barking at a coiled-up snake in the yard.

Earlier she’d also cornered a big, black snake on our patio and had alerted me to a snake on the patio. Bob was right – Channell was a good snake dog, and she was born with that instinct.

It’s no secret I’m terrified of snakes. Big snakes, little snakes — anything that slithers. I don’t even like walking in front of the glass cages at the zoo where they keep snakes.

This past week, my brother and his wife went on vacation. They had a house sitter to take care of their two King Charles Cavalier dogs. They’re primarily lap dogs who want to be close to people.

Ella is an older dog, content to sleep most of the time, and Trixie is a young, always bouncing puppy.

I was going to Baton Rouge to stay with my mom while they were vacationing.

Jimmy and Peggy graciously offered me the use of their house while they were gone and the sitter said she’d come when I left. A win for everybody.

All they asked was for me to make sure the pups had food and water. There was a doggie door so Ella and Trixie could go in and out as needed, so they were pretty self-sufficient.

Easy, I thought. The dogs barked when I was came in, but by the second day, they knew I was a friend.

If I watched television, Trixie curled up next to me. Ella preferred the cool wood floor. They were quiet company, and we got along famously.

I was writing on my laptop about midnight when the dogs started barking furiously. They were by the door that leads out to the garage. I wondered what in the world would get them so riled up.

I got closer and saw they were barking at something on the floor. It was a snake. Not a big one but a snake is a snake is a snake.

I screamed.

They barked.

I screamed louder.

They barked louder.

I looked around for something, anything, to kill that snake. I knew I had to hurry up because snakes are fast even though Ella had that snake cornered.

There was no way I could sleep in the house knowing a snake was loose, just waiting to slither up the chair where I’d be sitting or, horrors, waiting for me on my pillow.

I remembered seeing a broom in the pantry. I ran to get it and the dogs stayed put, Ella keeping that snake right up against the wall while her younger sister barked and jumped around behind her.

I opened the door to the garage and got ready behind the dogs. I took the broom and tried to grab the snake with the bristles. It worked but the snake shook free and dropped to the floor.

I screamed.

Trixie barked.

Ella wasted no time. She grabbed that snake in her mouth and shook it furiously.

When she dropped it, I was ready and swept that dazed snake out the door and then slammed it shut. My heart was beating and the dogs were still barking. I reached down and petted those dogs, scratched their heads and told them how proud I was of them.

Then I found the bag of doggie treats and gave them half the bag.

Ella slept on the floor in front of the door for the next few hours while Trixie snuggled up next to me.

I told my brother that Ella has a warrior’s heart. So does her little sister Trixie and our matriarch, Channell.

Bob is right. You can’t train a snake dog.

But when you find one, that’s a treasure.

We have three. I’d say we hit the lottery.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.