My closest real encounter with a snake was when Charlotte came to visit. Charlotte was a fairly young, four foot long boa constrictor who spent one summer living in our basement when my daughter and her boyfriend (later her first husband) brought her home from college for the summer. The snake and the boyfriend spent most of the summer with us because the boyfriend's mother flat out refused to have a snake in the house. Charlotte spent most of her time in a large glass terrarium on the bar in the basement family room. It was nice and cool down there and she had a window view. She ate an occasional mouse (shades of great grandma's black snakes) but these were purchased at the pet store and brought home in little cartons (picture the cartons that Chinese food comes in) with a phrase printed on the side that said "Somebody loves me and is taking me home." Well Charlotte certainly loved them. I did not watch when she ate. Sometimes Charlotte was allowed out of her glass box to get some exercise. She liked to twist her body through and around the rungs on the back of my dining room chairs. She also, and I know this may be hard to imagine, would curl up on my lap and let me pat her. It certainly wasn't like patting a fluffy cat but she did have a nice cool leathery feel. When the kids went back to college the snake went too, and was returned to the pet store. I think the novelty had worn off. Some pets, and some husbands, just aren't there for the long haul.
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