For Goodness Snakes

Our house might get a snake. On purpose, even. Most of us residing in the house have mixed feelings on the subject.

Jessica's student bought a snake, but the child's parents refuse to keep it in their house. Because this student has been through a lot recently, the principal decided that the snake could become a class pet. Unfortunately, the permanent school site is not constructed yet, and the current location being leased won't permit keeping a snake on the premise. The principal's brilliant solution was to volunteer Jessica to keep the snake until next year -- without even asking her first.

Now Jessica's in a difficult position, (I'm pretty sure snake care is not in her contract), as are us housemates. Snakes are, well, creepy. I'm sure my mother would have a panic attack just knowing I was sharing living quarters with one. When I lived with Mike, he would occasionally pitch the idea of getting a snake, but I was afraid I couldn't sleep knowing it was in the same room with me.

Michael Michael is excited at the prospect of having a snake. Though he's scared of snakes, he's eager to face that challenge. I can relate: while I tremble at the mere thought of heights, I like to defy my fear by going on roller-coasters. That said, I also know I couldn't live on the edge of the cliff, because while sporadic testing of one's limits is beneficial, intentionally torturing oneself seems unnecessary.

All of us agree we'd be happy to have the snake for a week. Taking care of it for a while would be cool; more than that, however, moves it from a fun, somewhat frightening experience to a full-fledged responsibility. The bottom line is that you can't love a snake. I'm not just trying to be antagonistic, but I think it's actually impossible to love a snake. You can be fond of snakes, you can enjoy having a snake as a pet, but you can't actually love the snake. It's a snake. It's cold blooded. It cannot connect with you in the way a dog can.

On that note, there's also some concern that either the snake or Bosco could try to kill the other. I swear, if that damn snake were to lay a hand tail on that cute little puppy of ours...

It's that mental picture that causes me to freak out. I ask my housemates with legitimate concern, "If I kill it, will it die? I mean, it's not like a worm, right? You don't cut it in half and then get two scary snakes instead. I need to know that if it turns evil, it can die!" They find this amusing, but when they come home and find me chopping at a minced snake body, they need to know what's what.

Part of the reason we're inheriting a snake is because this particular student wasn't permitted to keep a baby when it magically appeared in her tummy, and the adults responsible in making this decision seem to feel guilty. I wish we could have kept the baby, instead. A house baby would be awesome. Plus, I promise I wouldn't kill it. Intentionally, anyway. All bets are off if that, too, turns evil.

Alas, the baby is no more. Still, I think I'd prefer a dead fetus to a snake. That's a house pet I can really get behind. There doesn't seem much responsibility attached to that. Maybe the occasional spritzing with water to keep it fresh, no more maintenance than a houseplant. Furthermore, and I'm sure most would agree, owning a dead fetus is far less creepy than keeping a snake.

If I should mysteriously stop blogging, it is because a snake has eaten me. Send for help.