The quietness of the morning suddenly broke. I opened the door trying to find the source of the commotion. Like a flash of lightning, Henry dashed through the opening with a snake between his teeth.
It was a small garter snake with a girth no larger than a pencil—black-scaled, with two striking yellow lines down its back. It writhed and coiled as Henry dragged it towards the couch. Dad soon ran in after him with a stick, trying to pry the snake from his mouth. The mighty hunter he was, Henry pinned it down with his paw, having no intention of letting go.
Desperate, dad grabbed Henry's snack box and pieces of shredded chicken from the kitchen counter, hoping to lure him with his favorite treat. He danced around the living room, scattering treats like a flower boy at a wedding.
At last, Henry let go, dad scooped him up as Henry lunged towards a piece of chicken. I quickly grabbed the snake and released it into the bushes outside.
July 26, 2025 at home in Bothell, WA