Chapter 3 - The Question Daniella Couldn’t Ignore
Margaret stared at the monitor.
The pale shapes meant nothing to her.
“Daniella?”
Her daughter folded her arms.
“When Sunny was originally rescued, how was sex determined?”
Margaret frowned.
“You did it.”
“No. The intake paperwork came from the rescue organization. I relied on their record because Sunny was young and there was no medical reason at the time to repeat the procedure.”
Margaret glanced toward the treatment room.
“What are you saying?”
Daniella enlarged the scan.
“I’m saying Sunny may not be male.”
Margaret stared at her.
Then she laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because after an afternoon of fear, this seemed absurd.
“You dragged me across town because Sunny might be a girl?”
“Mom.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
“Those structures could be follicles.”
Margaret stopped laughing.
“Follicles?”
“Developing reproductive follicles.”
“You mean eggs?”
“Possibly.”
“But there’s no other snake.”
“A female python does not always need a male present to develop follicles or even produce infertile eggs.”
Margaret looked completely stunned.
Daniella continued.
“Some snakes can also retain sperm after earlier breeding, depending on species and circumstances, although given Sunny’s history we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. We need more tests.”
Margaret slowly sat down.
“So Sunny…”
“May be female.”
Margaret looked through the treatment-room window.
“Three years.”
“I know.”
“I’ve been calling her ‘handsome boy’ for three years.”
Daniella nearly smiled.
“I don’t think she’s offended.”
Margaret pointed accusingly.
“You’re the veterinarian.”
“And I’m already criticizing myself.”
For several seconds, neither woman spoke.
Then Margaret asked the question Daniella had expected.
“What does this have to do with my bed?”
“That’s what I’m trying to determine.”
The reptile specialist arrived forty minutes later.
Dr. Rebecca Hale was a calm woman in her fifties who had spent much of her career working with snakes, turtles, and lizards that terrified most of Daniella’s regular clients.
She reviewed the imaging.
Examined Sunny again.
Asked Margaret detailed questions about behavior, appetite, enclosure temperatures, humidity, hiding areas, and recent activity.
Then she confirmed Daniella’s suspicion.
Sunny was female.
And she was experiencing reproductive activity.
Margaret sat speechless.
Rebecca explained that the failing heat source was significant.
Sunny had apparently been seeking warmer areas in the house.
Margaret’s bed offered something the enclosure no longer consistently did: sustained warmth.
“And the wrapping?” Margaret asked.
Rebecca chose her words carefully.
“A snake positioning itself against or around a warm object can be explained by thermoregulation, support, exploration, and normal body positioning. It doesn’t mean she is hugging you.”
Margaret nodded reluctantly.
“And it doesn’t mean she’s measuring me to eat?”
Rebecca raised an eyebrow.
“Did someone tell you that?”
“No.”
“Good. That story circulates online, but it isn’t reliable animal-behavior science.”
Margaret looked relieved.
Daniella did not.
Rebecca continued.
“The important issue is safety. A large constrictor can cause serious injury without behaving maliciously. Margaret, you should not sleep with her, especially alone.”
“I understand.”
This time she actually meant it.
Then Rebecca returned to the scan.
“The second issue is that Sunny may be approaching a reproductive phase. Combined with inadequate environmental heat, that could explain increased restlessness and unusual attempts to seek different locations.”
“So she wasn’t trying to stay close because she loved me.”
Margaret sounded almost embarrassed.
Daniella touched her arm.
“You gave her a stable home. That matters. But loving an animal sometimes means understanding what it actually needs rather than what we want its behavior to mean.”
Margaret looked down.
Those words landed deeper than Daniella intended.
For years, Margaret had told herself Sunny slept beside her because the snake had chosen her.
Because she was special.
Because something in the quiet house still wanted to be near her.
Now the explanation was more ordinary.
Heat.
Instinct.
Environment.
Margaret suddenly felt foolish.
Rebecca must have seen it.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” she said. “People build emotional interpretations around pets all the time. The important thing is that you noticed the behavior and talked about it.”
Margaret gave Daniella a look.
“Eventually.”
“Eventually,” Daniella agreed.
They returned home after sunset.
Daniella insisted on staying overnight.
Marcus installed a temporary replacement heating system while they waited for permanent equipment.
Sunny remained under observation at the clinic.
The house felt different without her.
Margaret kept glancing toward the empty enclosure.
“You miss her already,” Daniella said.
“Of course I do.”
Daniella sat across from her mother at the kitchen table.
“Can I ask you something?”
“That tone usually means I won’t enjoy it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Margaret stirred her tea.
“I knew you’d tell me to stop.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Mom.”
Margaret looked toward the window.
Darkness had swallowed the backyard.
Finally she said, “The house gets quiet.”
Daniella’s expression softened.
“I know.”
“No, sweetheart. You don’t.”
Daniella said nothing.
Margaret continued.
“When your father died, everyone came here. Casseroles. Flowers. Phone calls. People constantly asking whether I needed anything.”
Her smile was sad.
“Then three months passed.”
Daniella reached across the table.
Margaret continued before she could speak.
“People returned to their lives. Which they should. You returned to your clinic. Your brother moved to Denver. My friends started having their own problems.”
She glanced toward the sunroom.
“Sunny gave me something to take care of.”
“That part I understand.”
“And when she started coming upstairs…”
Margaret stopped.
“It felt nice not to wake up alone.”
Daniella’s eyes filled.
“Mom.”
“I wasn’t confused. I didn’t think she was your father reincarnated as a python.”
That earned a small laugh.
Margaret squeezed Daniella’s hand.
“I just liked having another living thing nearby.”
Daniella nodded.
Then her phone rang.
She checked the screen.
Rebecca.
Daniella answered.
“Hi.”
She listened.
Her expression changed.
Margaret noticed immediately.
“What?”
Daniella held up one finger.
“Are you sure?”
A pause.
“When?”
Another pause.
“I’ll tell her.”
Daniella ended the call.
Margaret’s stomach tightened.
“What happened?”
“Sunny started showing more pronounced nesting-type behavior at the clinic.”
“Nesting?”
“Rebecca wants to monitor her overnight.”
“Is she in danger?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Then why are you looking like that?”
Daniella hesitated.
“Because there’s another problem.”
“What problem?”
“The heater malfunction explains why Sunny was seeking warmth.”
Margaret nodded.
“But Rebecca doesn’t think the heater failed recently.”
Margaret stared.
“She thinks it’s been malfunctioning intermittently for months.”
“How?”
“The controller logs temperature fluctuations.”
Margaret’s face paled.
“I checked it.”
“I know.”
“I checked every week.”
“I believe you.”
“Then how could I miss it?”
“Because the display was showing the target temperature, not always the actual measured temperature.”
Margaret pushed back from the table.
“So she’s been cold?”
“Intermittently stressed, possibly.”
Guilt crossed Margaret’s face.
“I did that.”
“No. Equipment failed.”
“I was responsible for checking it.”
“And now we fix it.”
Margaret looked toward the empty enclosure.
The warm box she had proudly believed was perfect suddenly seemed like evidence of neglect.
“I thought she came to me because she trusted me.”
Daniella stood.
“She may associate you with safety and warmth. Those things aren’t meaningless.”
Before Margaret could answer, Daniella’s phone rang again.
This time Rebecca’s name did not appear.
It was the clinic’s emergency line.
Daniella answered.
Her posture changed within seconds.
“When did she start?”
Margaret stood.
“Start what?”
Daniella listened.
Then grabbed her keys.
“We’re coming.”
She hung up.
“What happened?”
Daniella was already pulling on her coat.
“Sunny is behaving abnormally.”
Margaret’s heart raced.
“Is she dying?”
“I don’t know.”
They hurried toward the door.
Halfway there, Daniella turned.
“Mom, whatever happens when we get there, I need you to follow instructions. No arguing.”
Margaret nodded.
And twenty minutes later, when they entered the clinic and heard a crash from the reptile treatment room, Margaret realized this was no longer simply about a snake that had developed a strange sleeping habit.
Something was happening to Sunny.
May you like
Something urgent.
And by midnight, Daniella would discover that the python’s nightly search for Margaret’s warmth had been warning them for far longer than anyone understood.
