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 and cut off a small corner. This she tossed to the dog, who caught it in his jaws, swallowing it in a single gulp. Phuti now returned and washed his hands in the sink.

‘I’ve left him outside,’ he said. ‘That will scare his wife away. They often come in twos.’

She looked away. She had wanted the snake killed – it was her doing – and now she had made a widow.

Phuti stood beside her. ‘The important thing is that you are all right,’ he said. ‘It’s not good to be frightened when…’ He reached over and placed a hand gently on her stomach.