Facing Fears...One Snake at a Time

One thing I learned about the Mr. very early on is that he is terrified (and I mean absolutely terrified) of snakes. So terrified, in fact, that during one of our first outings together he took off running up Horsetooth Mountain because he saw one heading toward the hiking trail.

Leaving me behind to wonder what the heck he was running from.

Yes, he left a real heroic impression with that move. Thankfully I am neither terrified nor freaked out by snakes so I was totally okay with fending for myself. Now moths on the other hand....

When I finally caught up to him and learned that he had seen a snake, I had to hold back my laughter. I mean, the man was obviously traumatized so I couldn't even make a joke about it.

I quickly learned that any snake sighting in our future would result in the Mr. suddenly and without warning running in the opposite direction.

Even if we're almost home, and I'm on the verge of an asthma attack.

Apparently in the situation of a snake, it's totally okay to walk your wheezing-almost-dead wife back around the entire block to avoid the snake in the creek next to the sidewalk.

Makes sense to me.

So anyway, to say that the Mr.'s snake fears are borderline insane is an understatement. Which is why I had to pray that NO ONE ELSE would fill his head with horror stories of snakes in Texas. Before we moved, he was told story after story of snakes in houses, snakes in yards, snakes in boots, snakes in planes...

And all I wanted was for people to keep their big mouths shut because 1.) we were moving to Texas and no one was stopping us...not even the King Cobra and 2.) I had maybe seen one snake in my entire life living in Texas and found these stories absolutely ridiculous.

So, after reassuring the Mr. of the fact that we would be living in a developed area where snakes would not abound, we arrived in San Antonio.

We're sitting at the kitchen table on that first afternoon in Texas, minding our own business, when my sister walks in and calmly says, "I almost stepped on a snake."

As she proceeds to walk upstairs like nothing at all happened.

So we all rush out the front door (the Mr. was more like cowering by the front door) and sure enough there is a huge snake slithering through the front yard and wrapping itself around a tree.

While Mom and the Mr. are standing there trying to figure out what to do and discussing how freaked out they are, I'm silenting lamenting over leaving Texas so soon.

Because I know the Mr. is about to pack up all of our stuff and get back on the road.

Which would be a problem because he'd have to drag me kicking and screaming all the way back to the mountains.

The snake stayed around for a couple days, lifting it's head from the hole in the tree to say hello and slithering around the yard occasionally looking for food.

Food in the form of a little white dog.

Named Princess.

Which also freaked out the Mr.

I think he was seriously entertaining the idea of putting her in a diaper and not letting her outside until the snake was dead. Fortunately, Miss Priss did not have to tolerate the trappings of the old. I took her out as usual and determined that if she did - in fact - get eaten by the snake, at least she went down with a bang.

Or a really big swallow.

We haven't seen the snake for at least a week, so it's safe to say that it's moved on to terrorize some other poor unfortunate soul. In the meantime, I'm praying that our apartment (that is only a couple of blocks over from my parents') is snake-less.

Because in that case, we're either moving back to Colorado or getting a very big gun.

Sir Snake in the Yard