Turned on the lights because Toffee was being ridiculously noisy, only to see:
The lid is on and 100% locked via the handles.
How have you done this thing you did, boy.
THE SAGA CONTINUES
I wadded up a bunch of tissue to shove into the gap, until I could get something done about it. This didn’t stop Toffee from trying to escape.
Gorgeous. I stayed up, partly out of paranoia, and he decided to keep trying to noodle his way out until gone 2am. Fun fact: I get up for work at 5am.
But he went back into his cave eventually, and was still there when I woke up. I was fairly certain that he’d manage to get out while I was at work, though, and decided whatever–I can close the door, it’s a tiny room, and there’s no way for him to get under the floorboards or into the walls.
Popped into B&Q on my way back from work to get some wood to plug the gaps with, came home, and yep…
He made short work of that.
I start looking in the obvious places, not super panicked. If you’ve followed me for a while, you may remember the saga of the last time I lost him: he was out, sitting on my lap, and then he wasn’t. Five hours later, after tearing apart the house, I found him inside my bed frame. Anyway: behind and around the rack, behind the 15kg bag of substrate I have that takes up 90% of my floor, under the bed–nothing.
Put my bag down on the bed, glance at the pillow and wait a minute.
Jackpot.
Don’t give me that face.
The moral of the story: check your rubs regularly! When I first got this one and safety-proofed it, there was no way Toffee even could’ve thought about fitting between the lid and the tub, but through use it’s warped enough to provide a quick exit route.
Oh my god Toffee’s head squished into the tissue, oh god this is the best snake picture ever.
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