Family Expansion
Once upon a time, not too long ago, I had a pet snake named Orpheus. He was big, and green, and scaly, and dumb as a box of rocks. He once went several months without eating, and he never did quite seem to comprehend quite how to swallow a rat without guidance and advice. He was a fabulous companion, he tolerated small children, and he passed away last May.
At first I couldn't think about replacing him. I'll be honest, his cage has been sitting empty and more or less unchanged since then, because I couldn't bring myself to move it, or change it, or refurbish it for another pet. Even though he was as much living art as companion, I miss him something fierce.
But lately I've been feeling the absence of something large, scaly, and not-too-bright in my life. (And other herp fans, lest you think I'm being too harsh in my description of snakes, please don't - objectively speaking, there is a limit to how bright a creature can be when it has a brain the size of a Craisin and can't even digest its own food without outside climate assistance.) I've had my ear to the ground for a little while, just in case someone knew of a snake that needed rehoming, and today I decided to stop by a reptile store that a vet tech had recommended to me. I wasn't planning on actually buying anything, but they said they had ball pythons, and I figured I should at least take a look at them.
The reptile center in question is a scary, scary place. It's actually a fairly cramped trailer in the back lot of an industrial park, and the sign for the reptile store is mostly hidden by a second, larger sign advertising cage-fighting lessions and demonstrations. The gentleman running the store tends to have more visible tattoos than clothing, and the trailer itself is packed full of enough cold-blooded, prehistoric life to give even a herpephile like myself a mild case of the heebie-jeebies, mostly caused by the fact that there are snakes there big enough to swallow me whole as an appetizer. There's an alligator in the back room, and a snapping turtle that looks like an extra rejected from Jurassic Park for being too scary.
It's also warm, and clean, and doesn't smell like animals. All of the herps are bright and healthy, kept in appropriate habitats, and trained to eat frozen-killed prey, and it's clear that the person in charge loves what he does.
I love it there.
More to the point, I also came home with a new companion. Oberon is another ball python - a little smaller than Orpheus, but not quite full-grown yet, and hopefully not quite as special in his needs. He's got incredibly gorgeous markings, and he seems to love being handled. It'll be a few weeks before he's settled in enough to know for sure, but I think he's going to be a very good companion, hopefully for a very long time....
At first I couldn't think about replacing him. I'll be honest, his cage has been sitting empty and more or less unchanged since then, because I couldn't bring myself to move it, or change it, or refurbish it for another pet. Even though he was as much living art as companion, I miss him something fierce.
But lately I've been feeling the absence of something large, scaly, and not-too-bright in my life. (And other herp fans, lest you think I'm being too harsh in my description of snakes, please don't - objectively speaking, there is a limit to how bright a creature can be when it has a brain the size of a Craisin and can't even digest its own food without outside climate assistance.) I've had my ear to the ground for a little while, just in case someone knew of a snake that needed rehoming, and today I decided to stop by a reptile store that a vet tech had recommended to me. I wasn't planning on actually buying anything, but they said they had ball pythons, and I figured I should at least take a look at them.
The reptile center in question is a scary, scary place. It's actually a fairly cramped trailer in the back lot of an industrial park, and the sign for the reptile store is mostly hidden by a second, larger sign advertising cage-fighting lessions and demonstrations. The gentleman running the store tends to have more visible tattoos than clothing, and the trailer itself is packed full of enough cold-blooded, prehistoric life to give even a herpephile like myself a mild case of the heebie-jeebies, mostly caused by the fact that there are snakes there big enough to swallow me whole as an appetizer. There's an alligator in the back room, and a snapping turtle that looks like an extra rejected from Jurassic Park for being too scary.
It's also warm, and clean, and doesn't smell like animals. All of the herps are bright and healthy, kept in appropriate habitats, and trained to eat frozen-killed prey, and it's clear that the person in charge loves what he does.
I love it there.
More to the point, I also came home with a new companion. Oberon is another ball python - a little smaller than Orpheus, but not quite full-grown yet, and hopefully not quite as special in his needs. He's got incredibly gorgeous markings, and he seems to love being handled. It'll be a few weeks before he's settled in enough to know for sure, but I think he's going to be a very good companion, hopefully for a very long time....