I was raised on a ranch in southern Texas and as a boy (I am now 51) I did a lot of ranch work. We had a bunch of working cats. They were tame and affectionate, but they earned their right to stay. One cat, Sue, would eat only the choice portions of rats so she had catch several per day. Since she dined on the porch I had to dispose of several victims a day. She was solid black and must have been a terror that rat mothers warned their children of. But I digress.

One summer evening Dad and I were in the barn working, pulling on a rope. As usual several cats were in attendance in case we scared up a morsel for them. I was behind Dad as we slowly pulled the load. I was backing straight toward a diamondback rattlesnake. When I was about five feet from the snake when Diana, a beautiful calico, sprinted to a spot just behind me and yowled a challenge. The snake put his rattlers on full warning. The sound that you hear on TV, while accurate, is not the same as in real contact. In real contact your flesh crawls, and you forget everything else. I screamed "Rattler" and set new records for the 13-year old standing broad jump. Diana held her ground, just out of striking range, poised for mortal combat, as the snake held his head cocked, ready for the same, rattlers whirring. Even though the snake only wanted a meal of rat, in Texas of 40 years ago there was an ethic that rattlesnakes were to be killed on sight. We did.

Diana wasn't injured and enjoyed a special place in my heart, and still does in my memories. She lived out here days with us one the ranch.

Copyright © Wayne D. Cowey
March 8, 1998