Hey sweetheart. Snakies are little dolls, but so many people have such a negative outlook on them. Snakes are traditionally symbols or deceit, vileness, and evil due to the fact many snakes are venomous, or if nothing else, snakes are very easily spooked animals, and many people believe them to be “mean” for biting when biting is their only defense.
Owning a snake as a pet is wonderful, and can be so so rewarding. They’re seen as these awful, evil, conniving creatures when the poor dears are such silly little things you wonder how they live in the wild. People don’t understand it through their generations of stereotypes and all of this gossip of these “wicked” and “inherently evil” animals, and that causes these negative attitudes.
I’ll tell you a little bit about my experience with people and keeping my boy Kabuki, a year old ball python.
My grandfather does not like snakes. Has preached to me from when I was little that “the only good snake is a dead snake”. I can remember when there was a king snake in our bathroom, wrapped around the toilet, and my grandpa “took care of it”. I was little and very, VERY loving to animals, so my mom thought it best I didn’t see.
As I grew older I realized what my grandfather did to snakes. I won’t go into detail, but he had his shovel and, well. He beheaded them, to say the least.
As a kid it didn’t seem fathomable. Everyone told me snakes were bad, but they’d never been mean to me. I grew up in the deserts of California, so I couldn’t go outside without being warned about snakes. Living with them just was how a grew up. If I saw a snake, rattler or not, I’d just get my dog Ozzy and go back inside.
When we moved away from the desert to my current house, snake encounters went from wild to pet snakes. Oddly enough, I began to meet more and more people who kept these animals as pets. I didn’t get it, but I’d always hold them and pet their weird scales and think it was the coolest thing ever.
I started working for a petting zoo about… two summers ago. There I typically kept kid’s fingers out of the alpaca’s nose and told parents “no, the waters are not for sale”. Pony rides were the WORST, so I needed something to opt out of being able to do them.
Then along came Sammy.
Sammy was a seven year old ball python whom was rescued from a neglectful home. She had layers of eye caps that made her go basically blind. She was also a sweetheart.
So I held Sammy for the entire event, everytime.
My boss called me the snake lady and I remember the wide eyes and side glances from people walking by. Sammy was a sizable girl, a big old fattie, so I understood.
Once I watched this very pale woman push her large stroller into the middle of the empty lot next to our petting zoo, eyeing me warily. She had her husband and very young son with her. I got to talking with my friend, and was very surprised when someone tugged on my jacket.
There was the little boy. He said, “Hi, my mommy is afraid of snakes, can you go stand over there?”
My initial thought was, wow, what kind of mom has a phobia of snakes but sends her young kid to ask the girl with it to move instead of her husband.
I, of course, moved and the woman came in, avoiding the corner I’d been asked to tuck myself in completely. She didn’t even thank me or something.
It was so odd. Everyone else had been fine with Sammy. She moved slow and stayed 90% on me. She didn’t like to periscope or even really flick her tongue. Many people had marveled at her and petted her and been absolutely fascinated about her. Why was someone afraid of this little sweetheart?
I continued to work with the petting zoo for the better part of my summer and found many people who used Sammy as a means to conquer their fear of snakes. She was so docile, she could sit around someone’s neck for ages without a problem. She was my little companion, and she helped me run tickets.
I got my own snake the next summer. After squabbling with my mom, whom was raised by my grandpa and agreed with his mentality, I eventually won out. Inspired by Sammy’s kindly nature, I bought a ball python. I saved up and set everything up then headed to the reptile show.
I went around the whole thing once to get an idea of show prices and what they had available. I had $300 and wanted a baby pied. I was very upset when I only found a juvenile within my price range. I put down money on a banana and a mimosa, because I liked champagne ball pythons. Although, ultimately, I wasn’t happy with anyone I’d seen. No one was “the One”.
My dad told me to step outside and calm down. He’s incredible at reading people and is really good at telling me when I’m being irrational. So we went down the steps and he talked to me.
He reminded me that I’d had to do extra work for the better part of the summer to get the money I had and that he’d be willing to help me if I needed it (within reason, of course), and that the whole family had helped me. My parents bought the tank, my uncle had bought me some furniture and a thermostat, and many family members offered work that I could do to earn the money. (I work seasonally, and don’t get paid well for it.) He reminded me I’d worked really hard and researched and was entirely ready to own a snake. He told me that even if I didn’t find the right one this time, there was always the show in August.
It was pouring rain, I remember that vividly. I was listening to him while San Diego stormed. It had been cloudy when we went in, but now it was a full fledged storm. Rain slicked the streets and made everything hazy and cool, and water poured off the ends of the roof I stood beneath. Thunder boomed in the distance, and I remember the way lightning lit up the wet landscape.
I love the rain and lightning. California doesn’t have a lot of storms like that. I thought of the snakes inside, and went back up the steps.
More people were there now. People whom hadn’t been there the second it opened. I’m not good with crowds. I wriggled my way through the people peeking and inquiring and got back to the man whom I’d given $20 to hold the baby banana. He gave me a bit of attitude for retracting my offer, saying “most people wouldn’t give you your money back”. My heart was thundering so loud in my ears I just replied with “okay”.
I went back to the man with the mimosa. He smiled and greeted me, and said he remembered that he had her sister with him too. They were both lovely. I worried that my smaller tank wouldn’t make the girls happy. I was pulling out the money while my dad browsed his table. Then I saw a patch of white.
Heart in my throat, I peeked at the little brown noodle crammed into a corner. The blue writing on the display box had been scratched, but I made out the price. I was fixated on his little white tail.
I asked to hold him and the seller was perplexed, but pulled him out and handed him to me. I held him up to my face to get a good look at him while the breeder somewhere in the background mentioned something about getting to know a snake before getting that close to its face and my dad muttered something about getting bit between the eyes.
I looked him in the eyes and I knew. I knew he wouldn’t bite me, I knew what he was thinking, and I knew what his name was. I knew he was the One.
I paid the breeder, jubilant, and kept excitedly telling my dad, “His name is Kabuki, look at his markings. He’s so handsome.” I took him out to my mom and sister. My mom didn’t like him- she doesn’t like snakes. My sister loved him.
We went home after, and I remember taking off my sweater and wrapping it over his little plastic container so he wouldn’t get cold or rained on. It stormed the rest of the day.
And every time I pull Kabuki out to hold him, I know. I’m so floored at how this little boy is mine. He is such a doll, he has been since the day I met him. And everyone who meets him talks about how sweet he is and how he’s such a good little ambassador for snakes. This blog was made solely for him. He’s amassed so many people who adore him, near and far, and I feel oddly proud. Sure, people have told me snakes are bad. I’ve lost friends whom joked about hurting him. But I’ve gained a snake. I’ve got Kabuki and this whole beautiful, great reptile community.
Anyway. I spent like an hour trying to basically tell you that snakes are great. I apologize. I rambled. If you need anything, dear, feel free to message me. Snakes are wonderful creatures. Don’t let these people tell you otherwise.
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