Don’t Tell Me Your Dog Won’t Hurt Me
And I Won’t Wave My Snake in Your Face
If there’s one thing that can ruin a walk in the woods, it’s running into a strange dog on the trail. I’m not as afraid of dogs as I used to be and I can even tell a friendly dog from a threatening one-but I prefer to meet neither when I go for a walk.
I am a belly dancer and I dance with a snake. Chloe, a four-and-a-half foot long ball python, is as gentle as a kitten. I am in a Facebook group with people who name their snakes Sally, Kevin, Lilith, Severus. We love our “noodles” and share endless photos and suggestions for improving their quality of life.
I understand that some people are afraid of snakes. I also understand that this is an understatement. Some people are so afraid of snakes that they can’t be my friend on Facebook because of the pictures of my snake on my page.
Some readers scrolled right past this essay when they saw the word snake.
Once at the local pet store, I was holding a docile ball python, supporting it with two hands, when I glanced out the window to see a woman staring at me with a look of absolute horror on her face. She recoiled, jumping back so quickly that she stumbled right off the curb and into the parking lot.
