My cat had been acting strangely all evening. He was hissing, meowing, and wouldn’t leave the stove, as if he were guarding something. At first, I thought he was simply hungry — I poured him a bowl of food and added some fresh water. But he didn’t touch it. He stood across from the stove, tense, ears flattened, tail twitching, eyes alert.
“What’s wrong, Rysiek?” I asked, leaning down toward him. “What are you afraid of?”
Of course, he didn’t answer, but his behavior was so unusual that a shiver ran down my spine. He was usually calm and affectionate, liked to sleep by the radiator, and now — he looked like a tiny predator.
I was about to walk away when I noticed he wasn’t just looking at the stove; he was staring into it. Something down there, between the stove and the wall, clearly caught his attention. I leaned down to see, but suddenly the cat arched his back and hissed, as if trying to stop me.
Still, I bent down and peered into the narrow gap between the stove and the wall. For a moment, I thought I saw a flash of metal, but then I realized — it was moving.
At first, I thought it was a cable. But then it moved — smoothly, with a soft rustle. And then it hit me: it was a snake. A real one. Long, shiny, cold-skinned, with dead eyes staring straight at me.
My heart stopped. I stepped back, pressing the cat to my chest, but he wasn’t afraid. On the contrary — he wriggled out of my arms and stood between me and the snake.
He hissed, fur bristling, tail puffed up.
And the snake slowly slithered out from under the stove, coiling and raising its head.
It felt like everything around me froze. I couldn’t even scream.
Then the cat leapt.
It happened in an instant — like some ancient instinct awakened within him. He lunged at the snake, swiping with his paws, hissing. There was a dull rustle, the sound of claws scraping the floor. I ran out of the kitchen, shaking, dialing emergency services with trembling hands.
When the rescuers arrived, they moved calmly, like they had seen this before. One carefully lifted the stove, the other shone a flashlight. And indeed — there, where the silent battle had just taken place, lay a dead snake.
My cat sat beside it, breathing heavily but calm. He looked at me, then slowly walked over and rubbed against my leg, as if to say, “It’s all under control.”
Later, the specialists explained that the snake had probably come in from the street through the vents, seeking shelter from the cold. But if it hadn’t been for my cat, I might have noticed it too late.
Now, every time I look into his eyes, I remember that evening. Back then, he wasn’t just a household pet — he was a true protector.
And every time I stroke his head, I think: how little we understand about what those around us feel.
They sense, anticipate, and save us — even when we don’t notice the danger.
If it hadn’t been for my cat, that evening could have ended very differently.
And now, every day, I thank him for choosing me.
