The Whole Story

I would tell you my name, but we Mongooses don’t use them. We identify each other using scents and sight. It’s better because we don’t have to suffer the embarrassment of asking someone to repeat their name. “Gee, I know you told me your name five minutes ago, but I can’t remember it.”

There are thirty-three varieties of my kind but, I belong to one of the best-known varieties, the Egyptian Mongoose. Lately, my cousins, the Meerkat, have been getting all the attention because people think their behavior is cute. The bottom line is, we all hate snakes and, they feel the same about us.

The city I live in is called Casablanca, but in ancient times it was known as Anfa. Back then, it was inhabited by the Berber people. Some were pirates that roamed the North African coast plundering European merchant vessels. In 1468 Portugal dispatched an armada of warships and destroyed the city. Later they rebuilt the city and renamed it Casablanca or White House. Today, it is the center of Moroccan trade and industry.

So why am I telling you all this? Like many old port cities, the center is adorned with well-kept parks and beaches with all the modern conveniences. My neighborhood sits on one of the ring roads surrounding Casablanca and in no way resembles the city center.  The homes are constructed of plywood and tin with no running water, plumbing, or electricity. It’s perfect!

We Mongoose spend most of our time foraging through trash piles for tasty morsels of human food, rats, and the occasional insect. Unfortunately, snakes, especially cobras, also call this little piece of heaven home. Most of the time, we can avoid each other but not always. When we do end up in the same place, this is how it goes.

 I stared into cold dead unreadable eyes. Maybe I would be allowed to pass. No harm, no foul. Just two creatures whose paths fate had briefly intertwined. We moved in an arc, each participant in this deadly dance transfixed on the other. My opponent’s glistening scales rippled as he adjusted his position, searching for an advantage. My fur bristled in anticipation of his next move. My lips pulled back in a snarl, exposing fangs.

The cobra strikes first, but I have already moved. I countered the strike with my own, clamping the snake’s neck in my jaws. Mongoose wins again.