Snakes terrify me.

But they seek me out.

Which terrifies me even more.

On the other hand, my neighbor loves snakes. Arthur knows everything about them, from their coloration, to their habitat to whether or not they’re venomous or non-venomous.

It’s ironic that between the two of us, the magnet for snakes is me, the chicken, lily-livered screamer.

Last year, I went outside to check the pool skimmer baskets. But as I got closer to the pool, I spotted something – a long, black snake gliding along the top of the water.

I froze. My husband was gone and it was just the dog and me against the viper.

My sweet coward looked at me, lowered her head and slunk away to the back door.

So I called Arthur.

I hadn’t hung up the phone before he was running into my back yard, his twin boys behind him, yelling “Where’s the snake!”

“The creature’s in the water – kill it, kill it, kill it,” I said. Okay, I screamed.

“It’s a harmless water snake,” he said gently snagging the snake as it got close to the side of the pool.

He explained how harmless snakes are beneficial, especially as they eat vermin, such as rats and mice.

Blah, blah, blah.

Just kill it, Arthur.

His wife, Courtney, came over and we became a choir – “kill it, kill it, kill it.”

Now I know snake lovers and those who understand nature better than I do are cringing at this moment.

They’re the ones who agree with Arthur – snakes are an integral and important link in nature’s chain.

I understand that.

It doesn’t mean I want those important links of nature slithering around my house.

Or in my yard.

Or in my driveway.

Two weeks ago, I went down to get the afternoon paper. There, curled up by the mailbox was my living nightmare – a big, fat snake.

After I could breathe again, I hauled out my best snake weapon – my phone.

“Arthur, there’s a snake in the road,” I whispered.

In a flash, he was standing over the snake, and proclaimed it an innocent child of nature. He picked it up and asked if I wanted to touch the snake.

I’d rather touch lava.

He laughed and said he’d relocate the snake in the woods.

I watched to make sure he relocated that snake in the deepest part of the woods.

Last week, I was out for an evening walk. The weather was cool, the humidity non-existent, and the birds were singing in the trees.

I started down the driveway and there, right in my path, was a snake.

In reality, it was probably only two feet long. What I saw, though, was a viper 10 feet long with venom dripping from its gigantic fangs. I did the first thing that popped into my mind – I called Arthur.

“There’s a snake in my driveway, and I almost stepped on it,” I said, my voice quivering.

I’d barely hung up before he was riding his bike through the ditch into my driveway, his son right behind him.

“That’s a rat snake,” Arthur said. “They’re good to have around the house.”

“The only good snake to have around my house is a dead one,” I replied.

To which he laughed, reached down and picked up the snake.

At that moment, he became a god.

He proceeded to tell me all the good qualities about the snake, but all I could think was he better stay 10 feet away from me and not drop that slithering reptile.

“What are you going to do with that thing,” I asked, keeping my eye on him all the time.

“Put him or her in a safe place,” he said as we both said “far away from this house.”

I think those who aren’t afraid of snakes are the bravest people in the world.

I’m not one of them.

Instead, I’m a snake magnet.

As long as King Arthur’s around, I won’t be afraid.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.