Vet Among the Pigeons (9 page)

We got halfway home – as far as the canal – in relative tranquility, with Sidney, as I had christened him, hoping to make him seem friendlier, quietly coiled in his pillowcase on the passenger seat. The smell of reptile was growing, whether in my mind or in reality I'm not sure, so I opened the window to let in some Dublin fumes to overpower it. However, at the next bridge, it suddenly occurred to me that if he did escape he might make for the open crack, straight across my lap. Quickly, I closed the window again.

With one eye on the road and the other on the inert pillowcase, I drove on, trying to ignore the prickling
sensation
up the back of my neck. I was just crossing a busy intersection over the canal when, suddenly, I caught sight of the whole pillowcase rearing up and lurching towards me over the gear stick. In synchronicity with my body, the car swerved over the white line, amidst blasts of horns, while a cyclist skidded into the footpath. The edge of the
pillowcase was touching my leg, and part of the dense body of the snake had fallen down between the seat and the gear stick. With a shaking hand, I managed to pick the pillowcase up by the very edge and flick it back onto the seat while trying to get the car back into the correct lane.

The feeling of claustrophobia was growing in intensity with every passing mile. At the next junction, while
waiting
for the lights to change, I heard the gentle hissing sound, almost like the air being let out of a tyre. Through the well-worn material, I could see the outline of his head, upright, obviously as unimpressed with me as I was with him. At this stage I decided, for the sake of my fellow road users as much as myself, that Sidney would be better off in the boot. With the hazard lights flashing, I gingerly picked up the bag, and trying to ignore the still considerable weight of four-and-a-half feet of emaciated constrictor, I placed him gently in the boot, wedged between my vet bag and Molly's spare clothes bag, hoping she wouldn't object to the invasion.

My relief was short-lived. Out onto the Donnybrook road and there it was again … I was sure, ever so faint, but surely that was the hissing noise again? With an indignant squeal, the car slammed to a halt and I jumped out,
wondering
how he had managed to escape. But when I checked the boot, there was no change. His dark
silhouette
was still where I had left it.

Back in car and this time I tried turning on the radio to drown out my over-active imagination. I flicked from my usual East Coast Radio until I hit the soothing notes of Lyric. I managed as far as Stillorgan before turning down
the volume and listening: nothing. And again: still nothing. Was he just silent or had he escaped – and was he, right now, at this moment, making his way up over the back seat towards me …?

That's it, I thought to myself. Enough of this! I got out to reclaim Sidney from the boot. Back he went to the
passenger
side, but this time onto the floor where he couldn't move about as much.

We got as far as Cabinteely and in disbelief I stared at the long line of traffic ahead of me. At a quarter to ten at night, this could only mean one thing.

‘Oh, why tonight?' I groaned. ‘Of all nights to have a police checkpoint.' Mentally, I checked my tax and
insurance
and readjusted my safety belt.

‘Now, you just stay there and don't move,' I threatened the pillowcase.

With the car slowed in the bumper-to-bumper queue, the smell seemed to get worse. When it was finally my turn to roll down the window, I was sure the guard couldn't miss the stench.

‘Good evening, Miss,' drawled the guard with the tones of a man who was clearly not in a hurry.

Having caught up on the vital information of who I was and where I was going, he made his way in carefully
measured
steps to the windscreen and pointedly examined the discs, which were, thankfully, all in order. Just as he peered in the windscreen, Sidney, obviously getting bored with it all, started his antics again, tossing his head high within the constraint of his pillowcase as though trying to get back up on the seat.

‘Be quiet,' I hissed at him, not knowing why as I didn't think it was illegal to be carrying a snake around, but still, it was easier not to have to explain.

The guard frowned and with chest expanded and
shoulders
raised as though on the verge of making an important breakthrough, he came back to the driver's window again and pushed his head in towards me.

‘May I ask who you were addressing, Miss?' he asked in exaggerated monotones.

‘Who? Me? Oh, no one at all, Guard,' I replied, my voice a bit high. ‘Just talking to myself, you know. Lonely drive on a late night, and all that.'

He peered at me through narrowed eyes and then
casting
his glance around the car, came across the pillowcase tied firmly in a knot on the floor.

‘And what have you got in the pillowcase?'

‘Oh, that?' I said, voice rising again in forced gaiety. ‘Not much at all, Sir. Just a boa constrictor.'

His head shot back out the window and he stood upright again.

‘Do you know, Miss, that it is an offence to hinder the work of a member of the Garda Siochána?'

‘Really? Gosh, no! I never knew that. Wouldn't dream of it though, your honour. Would you like to have a look?'

With perfect timing, Sidney made another strike, this time as though trying to execute the perfect back flip. The bag flopped over and, with an audible thump, hit off the passenger door.

I looked up, waiting for the guard to reply but, with a loud bang on my roof, he beckoned me on, only pausing
to add, ‘The left front tyre is a bit bald,' as though I had committed a grievous felony.

I finally made it home in one piece and walked in the door to where Donal was peacefully watching a video.

‘What's the pillowcase for?' he enquired.

‘You won't believe it. But there was nothing I could do. I really had no option.'

With a sense of accustomed bewilderment he took the bag from me and opened it up to take a look inside, not noticing I had backed up against the far wall.

‘Is it still alive?' I tried to quell the hope that rose within me.

‘Oh it is,' he said, quickly closing the bag as Sidney
obviously
decided to introduce himself.

It took a while to get my old vivarium down out of the attic. Despite my aversion to snakes, I quite like lizards and had kept a pair of Bearded Dragons for many years.
Luckily
, their vivarium was still intact and although the
ultraviolet
light needed a new plug, the heat pads were all in perfect working order. Although the vivarium came
complete
with a solid, fitted lid with appropriate air holes, I placed the
Irish Times Atlas of the World
and a few other hefty volumes on top, just to be sure.

There was nothing more to be done with Sidney at that hour of the night, so having given him a spray of
lukewarm
water to make sure the humidity was right, we headed wearily to bed.

It took a while before I fell into a fitful slumber, working out the list of names I would ring in the morning to
organise
a new home for Sidney as quickly as possible.

It was the early hours of the morning before my disturbed dreams were interrupted by a loud banging noise and a heavy thump. In a panic, my first though was that Molly had fallen out of her cot and I leapt out, forgetting all about our house guest. When I raced into Molly's room, there she lay, sleeping peacefully, covers thrown to one side but still clutching the furry cow that joined her each night. With a start, I remembered about the snake and looked down warily at my bare feet.

I walked cautiously through the rooms to try to find out what had made the noise. When I reached the
sitting-room
, I saw that a pile of books and assorted junk had fallen out of the large press which was home to any odds and ends that didn't fit anywhere else in the house. I had ransacked it earlier, looking for the heaviest possible books to put on top of Sidney's vivarium. With a sigh of relief, I started to stuff the collection back into the press.

In the silence of that hour of the morning, it was
unmistakable
– a loud hissing noise came from the back of the press. With a scream which might well have been audible in Ballyfermot, some forty miles away, I woke the
household
. In an instant, Slug and the other four dogs charged in, ready and able to defend me against anything. They were followed closely by Donal, just as Molly's bewildered wails broke out over the general confusion.

‘The snake is in the press,' I yelled hysterically at Donal. ‘He's hissing at me.' I stopped short as my eyes fell on the
vivarium where Sidney was clearly visible through the glass, sleeping peacefully, neatly coiled and oblivious to the pandemonium he was creating.

‘But he was, he was hissing at me in the press when I pushed the books back in,' I told Donal, relieved and yet confused as to what had happened.

And even though we could still see Sidney, as calm grew there
was
a hissing noise.

‘Have a look,' I urged Donal. ‘I'll go and get Molly.'

By the time I got back with Molly in my arms, sobs now reduced to a sleepy snuffle, Donal was laughing, a can of air freshener in his hand which I vaguely remembered from three or four years back when we were trying to sell our old house and get rid of the dog smell. It seemed that the can had been lying in the press with the lid off and when I had pushed the books in, the spray nozzle had jammed and hence the hissing noise.

My laughter was as much nervous relief as general amusement over the whole situation. I have to admit that I've never been too fond of aerosols since.

A few hours later, I got out my phone book and started ringing the four or five contacts I had who had an interest in reptiles, eager to pass on Sidney before the serious work had to be done. Reptile fanciers in general tend to be
passionate
about their hobby, so I was quite sure that one of them would be happy to take him on in his current
condition
. And most of them were far more knowledgeable than I would ever be in relation to the creatures. But luck was not on my side. I was on my last hope, but Dieter, a German living in North Dublin, although keen, was going
away for a week that very morning. If I could keep Sidney until his return …? I had no choice. Seven long days before I could hand him over – if he lasted that long.

Clearly, the previous night's exertions had taken their toll on Sidney. That morning he appeared quite lifeless, coiled neatly around a log I had left for him in the
vivarium
. I checked both the temperature and humidity and
satisfied
myself that both were suitable and started reading up my reptile book.

Apart from his obvious ill-health, the only other clinical signs were the telltale bubbles that appeared over his
nostril
at regular intervals. This was indicative of some form of respiratory infection, but whether this was secondary to his ill health or the initiating factor, I didn't know.

What he needed was a daily injection of antibiotics, regular bathing in tepid water and worst of all, stomach tubing, to force some essential nutrients into the reluctant feeder. All of this I had done before, but usually at a clinic where the owner was able to hold the snake while I
performed
the tasks with carefully gloved hands.

Molly was clearly enthralled with the newcomer when she saw him first.

‘Nicey snakey,' she cooed at him. ‘Monny hold him?' she questioned, inquisitive eyes looking up at me.

‘No, no! Don't touch!' I replied, a little too abruptly. ‘He's too sick,' I added. ‘But he is a very nice snake,' I assured her, not wanting to pass on my phobia.

In order to calculate the correct dose of the medications, Sidney had to weighed. Although I could quite accurately estimate the weight of a cat or a dog by picking them up, I
had not handled enough snakes to even begin to estimate his weight. I had to get him back into his pillowcase – last night, it had seemed relatively easy to tip him out of the pillowcase into the carefully prepared vivarium, but now, how I wished I had left him where he was. Pulling on my gloves, I braced myself, reached down and cautiously touched the smooth body. The warmth always took me by surprise. The problem was that his head was tucked down in the middle of the coil so I couldn't get hold of it. Trying to make things easier, I decided that maybe I would be able to slip the pillowcase under him and scoop him into it without any major handling. Slowly, gradually, I eased the frayed edge in under the coil, but when I was almost half way there, the head suddenly shot up as though he was only now realising the unwelcome intrusion. I dropped the pillowcase and jumped up, almost knocking Molly over as she stood close by, delighted with the morning's entertainment.

Obviously weakened by his prolonged illness, Sidney's head drooped again. Taking a deep breath and quelling the waves of nausea that were threatening to overcome me, I managed to grasp him just behind the head – firmly, but gently enough not to damage the delicate bones in the area. I shuddered as he squirmed in my hands, but kept my hold, more afraid now of letting him go. With one eye firmly fixed on him, I reached over for the pillowcase and gradually drew him up high enough to drop his tail end into it. Once his bulk was safely contained, I let go of his head, withdrew my hand and held my breath for a few moments until all was still. Keeping a firm hold on the top,
I sat him up on the weighing scales and at last, the first task was completed.

Dropping pillowcase and all back into the vivarium, I was able to calculate and draw up the correct dose of
antibiotic
in the tiny insulin syringe. I contemplated injecting him through the bag but figured it would be better to know where the head was. I rolled back the edges until he was sitting on top of it, and, grasping the head, edged the needle in under the skin between two scales. With almost a sense of sympathy, I noticed how thin and gaunt he was, but was relieved that in his weakened state he didn't even seem to notice my ministrations.