There I was, just back from Malaysia, full of cold and flu, sitting in the lounge room with my feet up, feeling sorry for myself. Parichad had gone out on the motorbike to pick up some shopping, leaving me to the peaceful company of the dogs. But peace was short-lived. NooDee, the bigger dog, suddenly started barking like mad, the kind of bark that means only one thing—snake!

With my wrong glasses on (the reading pair, naturally), I saw a blur of something shiny in the garden. "Must be a little snake, 12 inches at most," I thought. Trying to sound brave, I told NooDee to back off, but she’s a clever girl and knew better than to get too close.

Realising I needed a clearer view, I rushed back into the house to grab my long-distance glasses. While swapping them over, I thought it best to call in the expert, so I quickly dialled Parichad. Of course, she didn’t answer the first couple of times—just my luck. But when she finally picked up, I said, "Come home straight away! I need your help!" She, being the fearless snake catcher of the family, promised to be home soon.

Glasses now sorted, I headed back to the porch. That’s when I saw it—a snake, not just slithering around the garden, but now making a beeline for the back wheel of the car. It was trying to get underneath, and the thought of it hiding in the car sent a shiver down my spine. I knew if it got under there, I’d never get it out.

Reluctantly, I armed myself with Parichad’s snake-catching stick—a long, intimidating-looking thing that felt like a lifeline at that moment. Picture this: me, in nothing but a T-shirt and underpants, adrenaline coursing through my veins, shaking like a leaf, with the snake stick clutched as far from my body as possible. Not exactly an imposing figure, but needs must.

I reached out with the stick, grabbed the snake near the wheel, and started pulling. It resisted, but I pulled harder, and more of the snake emerged. A lot more. This wasn’t a 12-inch snake—it was more like a 6-foot monster! And it was strong-I wasn’t sure I’d be able to maintain my grip. What in the world had I gotten myself into?

By the time Parichad arrived on her motorbike, I had managed to manoeuvre the snake and the stick out from under the carport and into the road, keeping everything as far from my body as possible. She found me standing there, holding a 6-foot snake, shaking like a leaf. And what did she do? She laughed!

She took over, calm as you like, and confirmed that it wasn’t a dangerous one—probably a rat snake, more interested in rats than in me, thankfully. But then again, Parichad being a master of understatement perhaps meant I’d have enough time for medical treatment if bitten by something less lethal than a king cobra. We had a good look at it, took a photo (because, of course, heroism needs documentation), and then she released it over the wall into the farm next door.

As for me? I hope never to repeat that experience. But it’s nice to know that NooDee’s got our backs when the slithery visitors drop by. And next time? I’m leaving the snake-wrangling to Parichad.

Moral of the Story: When it comes to snake catching, bravery is all well and good, but a smart dog and a fearless wife are even better!

PS Some online research later in the day indicates it was likely an Asian Copperhead Rat Snake, non venomous.

"I thought you said it was a small one!" she said between giggles. "Yeah, well, I thought it was!" I replied, still in shock.