Yesterday, as Dottie was giving me my afternoon walk, we came upon one of these. It’s an Oak snake – not poisonous. I saw it before she did – when we were a good fifteen feet away from it – so I proceeded to guide her to the other side of the street. About the time I started to pull her that way the snake saw us. It raise it’s head up and coiled a bit. Dottie staged a sit in and began to whine when the snake slithered away and I didn’t let her follow.
“Come on, Dottie,” I called to her. Hesitatingly, she did, stopping every few seconds to turn around and get another look.
I don’t like snakes. There a various and sundry theories of how to tell a poisonous[scary] snake from a non-poisonous[good] snake. Most of them involve getting close enough to see the size and shape of it’s head. I’m not interested unless I have some killing tool in my hand. I didn’t have any such tool at my disposal at the time.
TheBrit likes the live and let live approach. He’d get close enough to see whether he thinks it’s poisonous or not. Either way he wouldn’t kill it unless he felt threatened. My feelings on the matter are that the only good snake is a dead one, but I haven’t had to kill many.
“If it’s not hurting me I’m not going to kill it,” he says.
“That snake might not hurt me, but it will damn sure make me hurt myself!” I say.
That wasn’t the first snake of the day. Dottie and I encountered a much smaller one on our morning walk. It’s hot here and the snakes are on the move.
So are the alligators. We live in a neighborhood situated between several large lakes and they move from one to another. Dottie would be a small snack for one of those things. A neighbor down the street has lost two dogs to alligators. Her house backs up to the lake. Mine doesn’t. I’m good with that. Thankfully I haven’t seen one and hopefully I won’t.
I’m reticent about letting Dottie just go trudging into the shrubbery because of the aforementioned snakes and alligators but last night on our night-time walk she poked her head into the shrubs and flushed out a baby opossum. Adult opossums are kind of…unattractive. But the baby ones are sort of cute(ish).
Dottie was ready to play. She hopped over to the baby opossum and started to bark. The baby opossum did what baby opossums do. It played dead. Didn’t move a muscle. Dottie barked, and growled, and howled. Still no movement. Yawn. It’s not much fun to play with something that won’t play back.