Sunday, October 19, 2008


I scream.

I find myself in a predicament of unprecedented proportion, well, at least for me anyway. I am on one side and the dogs are on the other, tethered to me by a six-foot leash. Between us lies a three-foot rattlesnake sunning itself on the trail floor in the late afternoon rays.

The dogs have no clue of the snake's presence. But the snake is acutely aware of the dogs standing over it. The path is essentially blocked so I yank on the leash and the dogs turn round. Bear steps on the devil's creature, which hisses as it turns to the offending paw.

My heart pounds as I back up along the trail, dogs apparently intact and unbitten and utterly unphased by the encounter. I, on the other hand, need to learn a thing or two from the dogs, as I am freaking out about it. Poor Jack Bauer, he had to listen to me for the next 45 minutes of the walk screeching and rambling on about the devil. By the way, we saw another five snakes dead on the road during the rest of our walk.

Hours later, I think I have recovered. But I will not be walking on that path in the afternoon. Also i need to make sure I get us a vet and locate the nearest 24-hour animal hospital.