One of my greatest fears in life used to be snakes. I say “used to be” only because I seemed to have overcome what was once the cause of severe hyperventilation coupled with the urge to act like a complete idiot no matter who was watching. Arms flailing, legs carrying me around in circles, sounds coming from my mouth that only a three year old could be capable of producing. I know this because I once heard my three year old nephew make the very same sounds I was, when "That Girl" (he can never remember my name) demanded that he get rid of the six-inch snake he proudly waved in front of her and sent him to his “time out” corner for life. Okay, so it was a plastic fishing lure, but who knew? Snakes. Yep, no matter the size, could once convince this full-grown woman to believe that being dead was a better option than being in a fifty-foot radius of something that slithered for a living. But, not any more.

Perhaps I can attribute this amazing accomplishment to my loyalty to a dear friend. At least I’d like to believe that (as would she), but I have a feeling that my lesson was learned today because my friend merely helped me figure it out on my own. Of course, it’s just like her to prove her point through an encounter with a snake, and for this I somehow love her all the more. Go figure.

I’ve known my friend Dawn for almost fifteen years now, and she has never failed to remind me of her love toward all creatures (whether furry or slimy) that God has placed upon this earth for a reason. I’ve often tried to “reason” that God’s reason surely didn’t include the premature onset of cardiac failure, but she vehemently stood her ground. This is a woman who keeps her 22 year old three-paws-in-the-grave cat alive with twice-daily insulin injections (which I’ve been somehow suckered in to administering on occasion despite my suggestions that a motion-less lump of matted fur is NOT capable of bringing joy to anyone) and who refused to have a Japanese Beetle infested tree sprayed not only to protect the birds who might just come in contact with said tree, but for the damn beetles themselves. She has rescued more creatures from impending doom than I can count, and somehow (rather cleverly I might add) has commissioned me as an accomplice on a few of these “rescue” missions. Okay, I admit I am a lover of animals too, but I’ll stick to the “furry” variety, thank you very much.

Today is my friend’s forty-fifth birthday, so in her honor, I decided to do something that certainly is not in my character to do, but then again, it wasn’t like I planned on this ahead of time.....it just happened. And for that, I will always be in her debt. So, here is my story. I know it took a while to get here, but I hope it’s been worth the wait.


After a good week of heavy rains, my lawn was not only in need of a good mowing, but had also become the breeding grounds for various “swamp-like” activity. I had mushrooms growing in the back forty (I’ve always wanted to say that!) toads leaping about like they owned the place and I even think I spied a few tadpoles swimming among the ten inch tall Kentucky Blue. Weed-free I might add. I had used the rain as the “real“ excuse for not having mowed the lawn sooner for long enough, when in reality, I’d been just too darn tired these past few weeks. Too tired to even give a care, in fact, but I had to do something soon before the township started levying fines. So against my doctor's orders, I cut the grass today. I fired up the Craftsman self-propelled rear bagger and thanked my lucky stars that the good folks at Craftsman produced a mower that doubled as an air boat, and that I had actually purchased one of these models. Lucky me. I proceeded to “slosh” along, taking note at how the self-propelled feature didn’t work quite as well while in ankle deep water, but what the hell, I had all day and I was wearing waders.

I was mid-way through the mushroom patch when I saw it. The slithering, slimy little bastard that he was. How dare he think he can come on a “snake haters” property and flaunt his little slimy snake-like scaly self the way he was? The Creature Of Doom was far enough away that profuse sweating hadn’t yet commenced, and despite the onset of a few irregular heart palpitations, I was still able to devise a coherent plan. A “how to kill a snake” plan. A “how to kill a snake and make it hurt really, really bad” plan. I started to smile. I hadn’t attached the mower’s rear bag, so I was in “mulch mode”, and a mulched snake is a very, very dead snake, right? But, just exactly in which direction would the “snake-mulchings” go once they’d been processed? If there was even the slightest chance of them getting past the rear rubber flap thingy and landing on my feet, then I was going to have to think of another snake killing plan, and soon, because I swore the thing just slithered closer. (I could now see its little snake fangs). Time was running out and I had nowhere to go ( he had me trapped you know). But.... just then, and for the life of me I have no idea how this occurred, I thought of my friend. The very same animal loving friend who swore that every time I saw her, I had some dead animal story to tell just to aggravate her. Hah! Not this time Dawn! For you...just for today-is-your-birthday, you, I’m going to let this snake live. Even the lowest of the low deserve to live. This little fella (I actually called a snake little fella?) deserves to live no matter how much he is hated, no matter how much trouble he has caused others, no matter what anyone else thinks of him. He deserves a fair shot at life. I was in auto-pilot. I shut off the air boat, waded over to Mr. six-foot snake (Okay, so he was a little baby snake and hardly a foot long, but snake haters are allowed to multiply the size by six when telling their story) scooped him up and hurled him in to the side of my neighbors house. Part of me was thinking “rescued from being mulched“, but another part of me was still thinking “ACK! This is a snake we’re talking about!” If the force of the collision in to a brick wall just happens to kill him, then he was a stupid thin-skinned snake. If he survives, then he’s a good fifty yards away. Everyone wins.

But, dammit all, I thought of Dawn again and how I owed it to her to be a loyal friend. I should support her and her beliefs no matter what. Guilty me, waded in to my neighbor’s yard fully prepared to administer snake CPR. There he was, all curled up in the grass just below the garage wall, Mr. not-dead-after-all Snake. I smiled. I was glad he was still alive. Sure, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, yet he survived. He had to get knocked about in the process and he was probably going to be a sore snake come morning, but he survived. If he could do it, than so could I.

I used to always think that snakes were my greatest fear in life, when in all actuality my greatest fear has always been the fear of the unknown, the fear of never leaving a mark on this earth, the fear of never being loved.... the fear of dying.
Today I learned that survival doesn’t always come easy. After all, it might just have been good luck that got you tossed in to the side of a brick wall. It'll hurt like hell and what happens next will still be unknown, but in the end, you survived.

Snakes. Yep, no matter the size, could once convince this full-grown woman to believe that being dead was a better option than being in a fifty-foot radius of something that slithered for a living. But, not any more.

Oh, Jules! This was priceless...I was chuckling and guffawing throughout! This was just ONE of the many "favorite lines":

quote:

I was in “mulch mode”, and a mulched snake is a very, very dead snake, right? But, just exactly in which direction would the “snake-mulchings” go once they’d been processed? If there was even the slightest chance of them getting past the rear rubber flap thingy and landing on my feet, then I was going to have to think of another snake killing plan

I was supposed to be out the door about half an hour ago, but when I saw this, I just had to stop and read! It was worth it!

Glad to see your name pop up! Missed you around the ol' still...there's hanky panky a-brewin' with Keny and the gang.

~~flutter~~

Pam ... O what a story! And wow, a real-life one.

I was surprised and delighted at the lively twists and turns of this description - and the happy ending for (let's hope) everyone involved.

Technically too, your narrative is extremely well assembled: You certainly have no reason to deplore taking your time to get to the story itself when it's done as deftly as this.

Happy you to have overcome your snake-phobia! - Hopefully the snake slithered away, a wiser and more cautious creature, and with just a healthy touch of Pam-phobia.

You are really good at this! I don't remember having seen other prose writings of yours, but I would definitely like to see some more.

Jane

“Pam ... O what a story! And wow, a real-life one”. and “Oh, Jules! This was priceless”
Jane and Flutter said it first I couldn’t because I am speechless.

We all agree you should post more often, a lot more often, at least twice a year; what say?

Love, Dad

PS: I really did enjoy the cleverness of this, it was just perfect.
You can tell by the way the wrinkles turn up at the corners of my mouth.

Pam,
As I was reading this, I was thinking "priceless" - which seems to be THE word.

The way you descibe your snakephobia is so humorous, yet hold so much truth. I know this because my mother is one of your fellow sufferers. I say sufferer because I vividly remember (over 40 years ago) my mother becoming absolutely terrified over a toy snake the neighbor kid brought in our house. How brave of you to even touch a snake! And since it survived your "removal process" it may live to help keep down the population of other annoying varmits (like mice).

I really liked how you put your snakephobia in perspective in the last couple of paragraphs. I think we all can identify with your other fears and we all probably have a fear that we have allowed to become bigger than it should be. And those "brick walls" in life do hurt like hell, but in the end, we come out better people and we have this knowledge, that "hey, I survived, I can do this, I'm a strong, capable person."

Great piece of writing, my friend!

Pam! What a great story. and so VERY well told. Your talent extends well beyond poetry (and SWAG... ). It was captivating, with deep meanings and universal truths all rolled together into a excellent story. I am most impressed, my feeling-very-poorly friend.

You know, if you ever need your spirits lifted you can always call me anytime day or night. I'll look up the listing for rent-a-mime for you. HAHAHAHAHA!. Just kidding. You are a special lady, indeed.

Ken