Last week I wrote about how I try to accept scary or creepy looking things for what they are even though they often give me the willies. And for the most part I can do that. Except when it comes to one particular species: snakes.
Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying I hate snakes; I just don’t like ‘em. They sorta make my skin crawl, the hair stand up on the back of my neck. You get the picture. And try as I might to accept them, I freak out whenever I encounter one. So I’m failing miserably in the acceptance department where snakes are concerned.
What brought this up, you ask? I read an article last week about a man who found a snake hiding in his sofa. Since you’re probably in shock, let me repeat that. A ginormous snake was curled up behind a cushion in this man’s sofa!
As you know, I adore animals. In fact, even though I’m not enamored with every species, I try to appreciate them for what they are. I image the scary looking ones are more afraid of us than we are of them. At least that’s what I tell myself.
For instance, take spiders. I don’t mind them, except maybe the brown recluse. Suffice it to say anything whose venom can eat away part of my face with a single bite is something I’m more than willing to avoid. Now don’t get me wrong; it’s nothing personal. I’m sure they’re perfectly delightful creatures in a creepy spider kinda way.
There’s a snake loose in my home. I know this because my chatty cat, Oliver, informed me. I heard him calling me from clear across the house. So naturally, I went to see what all the chatter was about.
Actually, Oliver brought me two snakes, but luckily I managed to grab one and rush it across the street to “Rodent Knoll.” That’s the area where I generally release the gifts my cat so graciously brings me. Math is not my strong suit but I believe that means one snake is still slithering aimlessly inside my house. Continue reading →
My cat Oliver likes to bring me presents. But not the good kind like a bracelet or See’s milk chocolate Molasses Chips. No, he prefers gifts that are alive, such as the mouse he once brought to my bedroom.
It happened while I was drifting off to sleep. I felt something squirming in my pillowcase. Can you imagine? I’m sure the mouse was hiding from Oliver and I don’t blame him one bit. But talk about nightmares…
Just about everyone has a phobia, or pretty close to one. For some it’s a fear of flying, like for my friend Annette. We have to sedate her into a stupor before she’ll set foot anywhere near an airport.
For some, their fears focus more on crawly things. My ex, Jim, would yell my name from the other side of the house in such a way I thought our home was on fire. Or maybe he found one of our dogs dead under the bed. But no; a spider was in the house and it needed not to be. I had a small window of time to scoop up said spider and run it outside before panic forced Jim to smash the arachnid to smithereens.