Leanna Kay

We recently took our dog, Maria on a huge outing. Well, we walked her across the street to my parents’ house anyway. For her that’s a huge adventure because it’s beyond her wireless dog loop and there are things to sniff and pee on in my parents’ yard that aren’t available for sniffing and peeing on at our house.

As soon as we let her off the leash in my parents’ back yard, Maria made a beeline for the bushes behind the chair where my mom was sitting. The dog got the kind of excited she usually only gets when she spots rabbit poop to roll in while she’s still wet from her bath. Only a second later, I saw it wasn’t animal excrement causing all her excitement. There was a small garter snake lurking in the bushes right behind my mom’s chair.

The minute I saw the snake, I did the only thing a rational adult woman can do in a situation like that. I screamed like a toddler girl and ran for the house with Lauren and my mom hot on my heels.

My rational mind knows a garter snake is only a danger to small bugs and not to screaming middle-aged women. But the irrational part of my mind immediately makes the following connection. Snake = venom = painful death. I’ve seen enough Westerns to know what happens after a snake bites you, and trust me, you aren’t in for a happy ending.

While I was quivering behind the safety of the glass patio door, Maria threw the snake out from the bushes and did what dogs do. Killed it and rolled around on its dead carcass. (Don’t ask me to explain it. She’s a dog!)

Lauren and I kept a careful distance while the boys went up to the snake and took turns kicking it with their shoes to make sure it was really dead. (Don’t ask me to explain it. They’re boys!)

Both Lauren and I refused to take control of the dog’s leash to walk her back home. (Did I mention the dog had rolled around on a dead snake?!) So the boys took control and we all took Maria back home where she chased the cats and took a long nap on the deck. Because that’s what dogs do.

We recently took our dog, Maria on a huge outing. Well, we walked her across the street to my parents’ house anyway. For her that’s a huge adventure because it’s beyond her wireless dog loop and there are things to sniff and pee on in my parents’ yard that aren’t available for sniffing and peeing at our house.

As soon as we let her off the leash in my parents’ back yard, Maria made a beeline for the bushes behind the chair where my mom was sitting. The dog got the kind of excited she usually only gets when she spots rabbit poop to roll in while she’s still wet from her bath. Only a second later, I saw it wasn’t animal excrement causing all her excitement. There was a small garter snake lurking in the bushes right behind my mom’s chair.

The minute I saw the snake, I did the only thing a rational adult woman can do in a situation like that. I screamed like a toddler girl and ran for the house with Lauren and my mom hot on my heels.

My rational mind knows a garter snake is only a danger to small bugs and not to screaming middle-aged women. But the irrational part of my mind immediately makes the following connection. Snake = venom = painful death. I’ve seen enough Westerns to know what happens after a snake bites you, and trust me, you aren’t in for a happy ending.

While I was quivering behind the safety of the sliding door glass, Maria threw the snake out from the bushes and did what dogs do. Killed it and rolled around on its dead carcass. (Don’t ask me to explain it. She’s a dog!)

Lauren and I kept a careful distance while the boys went up to the snake and took turns kicking it with their shoes to make sure it was really dead. (Don’t ask me to explain it. They’re boys!)

Both Lauren and I refused to take control of the dog’s leash to walk her back home. (Did I mention the dog had rolled around on a dead snake?!) So the boys took control and we all took Maria back home where she chased the cats and took a long nap on the deck. Because that’s what dogs do.