True Stories | Love and Loss | Pets
A Love Story of a Very Different Kind: Part 5
The beginning of the end
“To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.”
~ Thomas Campbell
That first astonishing experience with Mason, the animal communicator, left me reeling. How could I have not seen what was going on with my little Bob? I suppose it was because I was deep in my own emotional issues and family “stuff” in Canada while settling into my new life in England. I knew we were closely connected but I guess even I didn’t realise just how close.
After the conversation with Mason, I was more mindful of spending time with Bob again. He ate regularly and was happily in his chair much of the time.
Although he did still appreciate a slow start to his day…as I mentioned in Part 3, see what I mean about how he managed to tuck himself in between the layers of towel, just as if he were climbing in between sheets? Clever little Bob.
For a while, things were calmer for the most part and life was manageable.
Fluffy, the boa, had been no bigger than a foot-long pencil when we’d got him a few years earlier. His hideout had been the inside of a cardboard toilet paper roll. He curled up and fit in the center of my palm. He was growing quickly and was strong, healthy, and ate well. He would eventually be eight feet long and a thick, stocky, very muscular snake.
A couple of years later, Willow wanted to move back to Canada. She adored England but was struggling with the rigid and unreasonable (by Canadian standards) school rules (understated). Plus life in rural England made it difficult to see friends or do much. I was terribly upset when finally, the decision was made one miserable, emotional Sunday. She would move back to Canada.
On Monday, Bob was acting up again…that same awful hissing, circling behaviour I mentioned in Part 4. Then he disappeared into his hideout and refused to eat for the next few weeks.
I set up another appointment with Mason. As always, I did not give any hint of what was happening in my world. I said nothing more than Bob was hiding and off his food again.
On tuning in, he said, “Does Willow have dark hair?”
“Yes.”
Silence. And then with an incredulous tone… “Is Willow moving back to Canada?”
Apparently, Bob was going to miss her. But his bigger concern was for me and how upset I was at the prospect of her leaving. Mason determined that what Bob needed was for me to tell him I would be fine, and that he didn’t have to worry. I would miss her but I’d be okay. I said everything he needed me to say.
He told Mason he would eat the next day. And he did.
Several months later, my husband revealed two huge secrets that ended my marriage. I was devastated; thought I’d finally found my Happily Ever After and what came up was totally unexpected. There was a lot going on after that; it was a terrible time and somewhere in the midst of the chaos, once again Bob wasn’t himself and stopped eating.
Another appointment with Mason. He tuned in. “Has your husband moved out?”
I swear to you…he never got it wrong.
And again, Bob was sensing my emotional upset. The poor darling, every time my emotional life was in turmoil (which was all too often), he felt it. He needed to know I would be all right on every occasion.
I’m only giving you a few of the stories but there were several times over those years where Mason helped me understand what was upsetting Bob. And it always had to do with him worrying about my emotional life because of the ongoing changes, challenges, and trauma in my own world or with my family.
Finally, things were more settled for a period of time. What a blessed relief. Life seemed okay again and all was well.
One night, I stuck my hands in Fluffy’s tank to give him fresh water. He was in his hideout — as usual — and lightning-fast, he shot out of his hideout (just his head), he bit the back of my hand and was gone again. It happened so fast, I saw nothing but a blur. In seconds, my hand was swelling and bleeding. A boa’s teeth point inward, making it hard for prey to escape so there was some tearing of tissue with the punctures when he removed his teeth from my flesh.
Yes, it hurt, although it wasn’t that bad. Mostly, I was in shock. I was shaking and crying; I felt utterly betrayed by my boy. That was far more upsetting than a bit of pain in my hand. How could he do this to me?
As a homeopath, I knew some remedies to take for shock, plus the swelling and pain. All were fine within an hour but I knew there was a reason for Fluffy to have bitten me. Wondering if he was hungry, I fed him the next day. He ate quite readily. Okay, better feed him more often, or bigger rats.
Snakes don’t give you a lot of information; you have to do a lot of guesswork based on the bits they do show you. He was still growing so it made sense that his appetite would increase at some point.
But two weeks later, he refused his rat. I thought perhaps he was about to shed (snakes don’t eat before or during the ten-day process). But he wasn’t. He kept refusing to eat for the following few weeks.
Snakes don’t show a lot of symptoms when they’re sick and it takes a long time for anything to seem “off.” It can also take a long time for them to get better.
He refused his next feed and I knew something was wrong. I started with the vet but her suggestions didn’t work. I didn’t think of calling Mason because it seemed more likely that Fluffy was sick than emotionally upset, as he had never shown any such indications previously.
Over the next few months, my (ex)husband and I followed the vet’s advice but still Fluffy wouldn’t eat.
In the meantime, Bob had stopped eating, too. Mason was unavailable for a period of time. I contacted another animal communicator who had a good reputation with horses but did not typically work with snakes. She didn’t pick up any emotional issues for him but she did say there was something wrong in Bob’s tummy…she said his stomach was twisted in an unusual way, and he was in pain.
She said a few other things that didn’t make much sense so I wasn’t sure I could trust her. Especially as she was saying she had no idea if she was good with snakes. Had to give her credit for being honest.
I’d just have to wait for Mason. In the meantime, I thought I’d try Bob on a mouse, and he ate it. This was encouraging, and I managed to get him to eat another mouse or two before giving him a small rat. I spaced his feeds farther apart. He didn’t always eat but at least it was progress. Or so I thought.
Meanwhile, Fluffy hadn’t eaten in months. This was a huge concern. I was so relieved when finally, I could have an appointment with Mason again.
The first thing he said was, “Fluffy says he wants a blood test.”
Oh, no. Those are so unpleasant for a snake. Vets can’t see veins like in furry creatures. They have to guess at a place under the tail that sometimes works for finding a vein, and if it doesn’t, they have to take blood directly from the heart.
“Does he know what’s involved with having it done?”
“Yes. He says there’s something wrong with his blood and that’s where the answer is. From what I’m picking up from him, I’m going to say it’s cancer.”
Fluffy was only 6 years old. Boas can live to be 40. He was an adolescent. How could this be?
Mason continued. “He says he doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t like this life. It’s not you or your home or anything about you. He just doesn’t like living. He has never liked being alive. He’s done. He wants out.”
“Is that why he always hides? Is that why he has never liked being held?” — so unusual for a boa.
“He says yes. He’s ready to go.”
And as if that wasn’t enough, things took a turn for the worse with Bob, too…
Continue to Part 6 here:
Donnette Anglin has written one of the most impactful pieces I’ve read on Medium. I could relate to a lot of the choices and challenges of her earlier adult life but she turned it around and has created a successful life and business. Such an inspiring story!
Thank you so much to Winston and the Coffee Times Team for publishing this and for all you do for others and for our community. I appreciate you!
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