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same. Resisting every temptation to move as quickly as possible, she slowly rose and walked backwards out of the room, half-expecting the snake to dart out from under the bed and pursue her. But it did not, and she was able to close the door behind her and walk swiftly to the telephone in the kitchen.
    Phuti Radiphuti, called out of his meeting with his suppliers, promised to come home immediately.
    ‘But listen, Phuti,’ Mma Makutsi said. ‘It’s no good just putting that snake out with a stick. You have to solve the problem permanently. That snake has to go.’
    There was silence at the other end of the line.
    ‘Phuti, are you still there?’
    ‘Yes, I am here.’
    ‘And so is the snake,’ said Mma Makutsi.
    ‘I’m thinking,’ said Phuti.
    Mma Makutsi sighed. ‘Surely there is nothing to think about. The snake must be killed; otherwise he will always be coming back into the house. Maybe he thinks it’s his house already. Then all he will have to do is bite both of us and he will have it all to himself.’
    ‘There is a dog,’ said Phuti.
    ‘It’s not dogs; it’s snakes.’
    Phuti laughed weakly. ‘There is a well-known dog. He belongs to the accountant here in the store. He’s called Mealies.’
    Mma Makutsi let her irritation show. ‘I don’t want to talk about dogs,’ she said peevishly, ‘whatever they’re called. I want you to come home and hit that snake on the head. That is what you need to do.’
    Phuti’s voice was persuasive. ‘This dog is a famous snake-catcher. I have seen him do it. The snake doesn’t stand a chance.’
    ‘Then it’s a pity that he’s not our dog.’
    ‘I can borrow him. Other people have done that – they’ve borrowed Mealies and he’s dealt with snakes. That is what we need to do.’
    Mma Makutsi was doubtful, but agreed that Mealies could be tried – as long as he could arrive within the next half hour. ‘I cannot wait in the house with a snake for longer than that, Phuti.’
    ‘I’ll fetch him,’ said Phuti. ‘He will be there.’
     
    Phuti was as good as his word, arriving at the house only fifteen minutes later. With him was Mealies, an odd-looking dog with a thickset, muscular body and short, bowed legs that looked as if they had been taken from a much smaller dog and grafted on. Mma Makutsi met her husband as he emerged from his truck and watched with interest as he let the dog out of the back.
    ‘He’s a very peculiar-looking dog,’ she remarked. ‘Are you sure that he —’
    He held up a hand to stop her. ‘He’s a famous snake-catcher, Mma. You’ll see.’
    He led the dog into the house while Mma Makutsi busied herself in the kitchen. She did not want to see what happened; she had seen a dog killing a snake in Bobonong and had not liked the sight. In spite of everything, she had felt sorry for the snake, which was a creature like the rest of us who just wanted to go on living. But her mind was made up on that cobra: you simply could not allow a highly venomous snake to take up residence in your house. It was a matter of survival, really.
    She heard Phuti opening the bedroom door and then she heard the dog growling. This was followed by a furious barking and the sound of something being knocked over. Then silence.
    ‘Phuti?’ she called.
    ‘He has done it,’ Phuti called out from the bedroom. ‘That snake is no more.’
    She averted her eyes as Phuti carried the snake out by its tail. She caught a glimpse of a mangled head and she saw a small drop of snake blood, red and glistening, fall on the tiled floor. She shuddered.
    ‘Take it outside, Phuti – I don’t want to see it.’
    Mealies, looking pleased with himself, the white fur around his jaws now stained red, swaggered into the kitchen on his short and bandy legs.
    ‘You should reward him,’ said Phuti. ‘Give him some meat.’
    Mma Makutsi looked down at the dog, who was gazing up at her expectantly. Crossing the kitchen to the fridge, she extracted a large piece of steak