If you’ve been following along with the Snake Chronicles, you know I come from a long line of people who are apparently destined to have encounters with unwanted reptiles. This chapter belongs to my grandma.
Years ago, my husband, kids, and I helped care for Gram so she could stay in the home she loved. She always said she’d rather stay in her own house than go to a nursing home, and we were determined to help make that happen. Though she couldn’t walk anymore, she was able to get herself up and get into her power chair, which allowed her to move around the house. When the weather allowed, she’d get out and cruise around our small town.
The thing about my grandma was that she never stopped trying to take care of herself. Even when she was mostly confined to her power chair. Even when she needed help with many daily tasks. And even when…there was a snake loose in her living room.
One afternoon she called me.
“Hey honey, I have a problem.”
Now, when you’re caring for an elderly relative, those words can mean just about anything.
“What’s up, Gram?” I asked.
“Well,” she said matter-of-factly, “there’s a snake in my living room.”
I said, “WHAT?!?!” A snake. In the living room. She continued, completely unfazed. I, on the other hand, was fazed.
“I’ve been trying to catch it with my grabber, but it’s too fast. Do you think my grandson could come help me out?” she asked.
What impressed me most wasn’t that there was a snake in her house, though that was unsettling. But it was that her first response had been to engage it in battle with a grabber. But that’s the kind of lady Gram was.
I told her I would send my son down to her house, which was only about 50 yards down the street. I went out to the garage where my son was working on his boat and relayed the message:
“Gram has a snake in her living room and wants you to come help.”
He looked at me, eyebrows raised and started laughing: “And she called for me?”
To be fair, he inherited his less than favorable feelings about snakes from his mother, so neither of us was exactly thrilled about this assignment. But off we went, my daughter tagging along.
When we arrived, Gram was wielding her grabber like Obi-Wan Kenobi! The snake, meanwhile, was sidewinding behind the recliner, then the end table, and then under the sofa.
My son attempted to grab it several times as I sat like a chimp perched on her sofa weaving and bobbing with each move. My daughter watched from the porch through a picture window, quite amused by the show she was watching.
We decided it was time to call for reinforcements…
My nephew swiftly arrived, and after a few rounds of chasing it from behind furniture, he nabbed the snake, dropped it in a bucket, and my son snapped the lid on like he was closing a crypt. Finally, Satan’s noodle was captured, so my nephew relocated it outdoors where it could continue terrorizing someone else.
Then came the obvious question:
How did a snake get into the house in the first place?
We suspected it may have come up from the old cellar, so we decided we had better investigate to make sure it didn’t have friends planning a convoy to the living room. Everyone gathered around the cellar door.
My nephew started down the stairs and then froze:
“There’s probably spiders down there.”
Now the brave snake-catcher suddenly had concerns.
As it turned out, one of the boys was scared of spiders and the other was scared of snakes. They backed away from the door and shoved my daughter to the front: “You go first!”
So, there we were: two teenage boys who had just captured the living room snake, hiding behind a teenage girl in case there were spiders or snakes lurking in the cellar! She walked down the stairs tepidly, determined to prove she was braver than both the boys. After surveying the area with a flashlight, she reported no more creepy snakes were lurking in the cellar.
To this day, I still picture my grandma zooming around the living room in her power chair, grabber in hand, trying to catch a snake and it makes me smile! She’s been gone from this earth 8 years now, and she left us with so many good stories to tell.
That was her—always having a can-do attitude, a positive spirit, and the determination to give things her best shot. And when something proved bigger than she could handle alone, she wasn’t afraid to call for a little help.
Anyway…off we go…the dogs still need walked, there are family stories that deserve retelling, and besides being our guardian angel, Gram has probably traded in her power chair for a pair of running shoes and is making sure no snakes slither past the Pearly Gates.
© 2026 Anyway… Off We Go™ by Erica Shoemaker. All rights reserved
Anyway...Off We Go 