“Dad bought me a snake!” my ten-year-old son beamed as I set my briefcase down.
This was not an option, as my soon-to-be-ex-husband knew. I hate snakes.
“Sam” led me to the tank, placed at eye level, to introduce me to “Raptor,” the cutest 18-inch garter snake I had ever seen.
“He’s adorable!” I couldn’t believe I said that.
Raptor had a mountain cave in his reptorium and a bowl we called his “Jacuzzi.” He quickly established a routine: Every ten days, he would tell us he was hungry by stretching his body over the top of his mountain and staring at his bowl. After we placed $1 worth of “feeder fish” in his Jacuzzi, he would dive in and swim furiously around the bowl. After eating all but one fish, he would recline with his back against one end of the bowl and his tail draped over the other end, watching the lone fish. After a day or two, he ate the fish and retreated to the inside of his cave, and the cycle began anew.
He still wanted out, so we had to put heavy rocks on the lid to discourage him. When he did escape, we would find him eventually - curled up on a window sill, peeking out from behind a book case, or swimming in the dog’s bowl.