We made an overnight trip to Kuala Lumpur on the weekend, thus providing enough material for a few blogs. While we were away, MIL babysat Lotus Street, looking forward to two days of peace, serenity and contemplating the pond. Poor poor woman. This is what happened.

On our first day away, she was busy catching up on her letter-writing, when she noticed Fluff and Squeak jumping around an extension cable near the front door. Curious, she rose to find out what the problem was and, as she neared the door, realised that it wasn’t a cable the cats were jumping around. After all, extension cables aren’t brown, a metre long, half upright, and hissing.

With the cats keeping the snake penned to the area just by the front door, she rushed off, returning with a walking stick … and a can of mosquito repellent. While she was relating this story, I commented to J that, if I was that snake, getting mosquito spray in my eyes would have probably pissed me off even more. Anyway, between the three of them, they killed the snake. MIL bagged it and threw it away in the rubbish bin. Even two hours later, when talking to J over the phone, she was still (understandably) shaken, and looking around desperately for some chamomile tea/valerian/industrial-strength morphine to calm her down.

This is what we figured happened. After much haranguing and gnashing of teeth, the telecommunications guys finally fronted up to our place late last week and began laying cable. In the process, they discovered blocked ducts, indicating infrastructure that had been laid years ago, but left untouched since then. In our carport is a small pit for the connection of said cable. Usually, it’s covered with a solid concrete lid, but it was askew to assist the telecommunications guys with their work. And it’s about two metres from our front door. So, all three of us figure that the cable-laying disturbed the poor snake and it decided to go looking for another place to live. And guess where it ended up?

There are no winners in this story. I like snakes. I like their “you don’t bother me, and I won’t bother you” philosophy, which I think the rest of the world could do well to emulate more. I doubt there are more serene animals in the world. I think the one that met its unfortunate fate in our house was probably a Bronzeback, which is not venomous, are very common in this region, and mostly go after frogs and small mammals.

And as for my MIL … well, imo, the woman deserves a medal at the very least. Here’s a Polish grandmother who’s travelled halfway around the world to a foreign-language, tropical country and is alone in the only inhabited house in the area. She is confronted face-to-face, for the first time in her life, by a majorly annoyed, loudly hissing snake in classic threatening posture, with her son and family hundreds of kilometres away. She said that Fluff and Squeak were on that snake in an instant, and provided invaluable help despatching the reptile. (The next day, Squeak undid part of his goodwill bonus points by eating one of our pond fish. I think he thinks he’s invincible now.)

Which all sounds great. Except, I wouldn’t subject most people I know to the kind of stress involved in confronting a pissed-off snake. And, of course, it would have to happen on the one night we were away from the house. When we got home, J also checked under the hood of our car (we took public transport to and from KL), in case there was another snake that took refuge in another favourite snake spot, but it looks like there was just the one hapless animal.

And that’s our most recent snake story.

CONNECTIVITY UPDATE: All cables are connected on our side, but we’re still not getting access. The telecommunications guys (Time dot Com, in case you were wondering) are going to have “a meeting” to “discuss the situation”. The sound you hear is my head hitting a solid surface. Repeatedly.

So you already know about J and myself. And our two kids, The Wast and Little Dinosaur. But we have two other well-loved family members, nicknamed Fluff and Squeak.

Fluff is a blue-point Ragdoll, a grumpy and morose cat with an unhealthy attachment to J. Despite his lack of any sense of humour, Fluff has earnt his place in the family by rescuing The Wast from morning after morning of screaming fits when our son was three years old. Driven to distraction, we introduced the Ragdoll kitten and The Wast was transformed. Fluff let himself be dragged from place to place, hoisted onto bunk beds, buried under blankets at night, all with incredible good grace. The Wast settled down and the screaming fits ended.

Squeak is the Maine Coon we introduced to keep Fluff company. We called him that because he couldn’t meow properly as a kitten. Now, however, he can Maine Coon trill with the best of them. If Fluff is the grumpy one that prefers to fall asleep on J’s feet, Squeak is the life of the party, carrying his favourite toy in his mouth as he moves from room to room, and noisily and enthusiastically playing with it when he reaches a spot he likes. For all his overt cockiness, however, he’s a shy and surprisingly timid 7-kg ball of fluff. He loves the kids, often sitting on a bed and keeping them company while they play, and they love him. The idea of him keeping Fluff company didn’t work out so well (Fluff being a sullen bastard at the best of times), but Squeak’s an entertaining and intelligent cat and we’re happy we got him.

We keep both cats indoors and are lucky enough to have a walled courtyard garden here at Lotus Street, so they can get some fresh air and munch on leaves (then throw up on the tiled floors * sigh *) while still remaining safe and not harming any of the local squirrels or bird life. I’ve read that, here in Malaysia, keeping smaller cats indoors is also recommended due to monkey kidnapping! It appears that, if you live near a tract of established trees, monkeys have been known to drop into a garden and make off with the family pet. Knowing monkeys for the deliberately ill-mannered and implacable animals that they are (I’d much rather keep a pet snake than a pet monkey), I can imagine what fate await the poor, stolen felines.

And there’s some human-initiated kidnapping of pets that I’ve heard also happens, although I don’t know what happens to the victims in such cases. (I know what you’re thinking. As a riposte, I can relate an anecdote about my (Eurasian) mother, after coming back from her first grocery shopping trip in Australia. “These people eat cats!” she wailed. “I saw them skinned in the butcher’s shop!” Further investigation led to the conclusion of rabbits rather than cats, but she never went back to that shop again.)

So, Fusion Despatches would like to extend a warm acknowledgement to the existences of Fluff and Squeak, as I join the legion of authors who keep cats instead of dogs.

I yearn, bereft of
juicy pork bits and parsley.
My stomach rumbles.

So, I’m on the hunt for a slab of smoked pork and a bunch of parsley, goddammit! It’s almost three weeks and no luck. This part of the world doesn’t use parsley as a matter of course. Coriander is the ubiquitous herb around. And I like coriander. But not in my pesto, or other pasta sauce.

As for the smoked pork, well Malaysia is predominantly Muslim. That’s not to say there are no Chinese shops selling porky goodness, because there are. But we have the same problem as we did in Singapore and that is, Chinese have a dreadful habit of putting sugar in EVERYTHING! It’s like honey-roasted pork with a coating of sugar syrup. If there are any Chinese out there reading this blog (and I’ll be asking my Chinese friends the same question), could you please let me know the name of the person who told you that sweetening and perfuming pork sausage (and I’m particularly thinking of lap cheong here) was a good idea? I mean, a little sugar with the spice is sometimes a nice thing, but in moderation, people! Sweet ham, sweet bacon, sweet sausage, sweet sandwich bread. I will never diss an olive again for as long as I live.

The only spot of brightness on the horizon is the realisation that Carrefour is opening a store here in a month’s time. It will be about a 20-minute drive from our house. Can I say that I doubt there has been a grocery shop opening that was looked upon with such anticipation? I even go there every now and then, and watch the delivery trucks arriving, just to make sure it’s actually happening. For all you non-Carrefour readers, Carrefour is a French chain of supermarkets. Cheese! Dairy! Pork! Parsley! Countless varieties of mustard! My sanity is saved … sometime in August.

So, while I wait for the weeks to tick away on feet of lead (Salsify! Escargots! Salmon!), Chapter Nine of War Games is now up at my site, regardless of what the home page may say. There is a confrontation between Rumis and Koul at the Nineteen’s HQ, subsequent to Cheloi’s capture by the rebels. Cheloi/Laisen has a discussion with Copan that he’s not happy with. And she remembers the love of her life, Eys.

FAVOURITE QUOTES FROM CHAPTER NINE

“Speaking of replacement, I think your assumption of command is just a little premature, Colonel.”
“As is your grasp of reality, Major.”

“I’ve always valued our talks, Doctor. I just wanted to make sure that I told you that.”

Her parents loved Eys. Hell, everybody loved Eys. People panted and trailed after her like puppies. Men and women, it made no difference. But she was Laisen’s. Only Laisen’s.