A mere month after losing Lucky, I felt I was ready for another pet. Moving up on the size scale I decided to get a snake.
Now, I'm not crazy, I didn't want a pet that could in any way harm me. No poison and no squeezing to death, thank you very much. After a little bit of research I decided on a corn snake, no teeth and no threat. His name was Spot.
A mere 12 inches long he would fit in Lucky's old aquarium, and his diet would consist mice. As he was a young snake he was too small to eat the full grown fuzzy rodents, so he got to eat fetal mice. Yes, I moved up from purchasing crickets and keeping them alive to buying frozen fetal mice and keeping their little pink corpses in the freezer.
My roommate at the time already had a fear of snakes she had to deal with thanks to me, but she also had to live in conscious denial of the fetal mice stored next to the ice cubes. Yes, she was a saint.
Life with Spot was pretty good. He spent most of the time hiding, burrowing under the sawdust to the bottom of his aquarium. He only ate once a week, so despite the strange dietary habits he was really a great pet, on the ease scale.
After having him for about a month I would feel guilty about him being so confined all the time, so occasionally I would let him out to play.
(Gee, can you tell where this story is going?)
Now, I never did this when my roomie was home, as she would kill me. After she recovered from dying of fear. So home alone I would sit in the living room while he slithered around in perfect bliss.
One day I got a bit distracted.... and he was gone. Just like that, one minute he was there, next nowhere to be found.
Oh boy, did I ever look high and low for Spot! I dug in the couch set, looked outside, searched both bedrooms and the bathrooms. To no avail, he had made his getaway and he could have gotten anywhere. He was only about a half an inch in diameter, tiny enough to get through many a crack.
Now to add the situation, I was due to go on vacation in two days. To Disney World with my friends. My first ever trip to the happiest place on earth, we were planning on driving down in a test Cadillac (friends in high places) and getting a five-day pass. This meant I was going to be gone for a week, and my roomie was to be left alone with Spot amid his prison break.
My choice of action seemed pretty clear. Lie. Lie lie lie.
What was I going to say, "I lost the snake, good luck with that, see you in a week!" Then walk out the door? Nope, I said, "Spot has been fed and is set while I'm gone. Don't you worry about a thing. And if you look in his cage and don't see him, it is because he sleeps under the sawdust.
Best laid plans...I got a call the second day of Disneyworld from a rather upset roomie. Seems her cousin had come over and wanted to play with Spot. To find him missing. Roomie was concerned that I might think she had caused his demise or escape on purpose, since she didn't like him. The girl felt terrible.
Talk about guilt. So I came clean. Well, mostly. I admitted to losing Spot...while playing with him outside. Where roomie's guilt was appeased her nightmares began, but at least she got some comfort from his not being lost indoors. *cough*
Turns out Spot would have grown to be at least five feet long. Ummmmmmm really I didn't do anywhere near enough research before getting him. Obviously.
I had assumed maybe he would grow to be a foot or two long. Then there would have been the issue of getting attached to all the cute fuzzy mice I would have to buy and keep just for the slaughter. My life would have been overrun with pets! Cage and food for the mice, HUGE cage and stuff for Spot.
It all worked out for the best I suppose. I like to imagine that Spot still lives, roaming the walls of that apartment complex keeping it nice and pest free for the inhabitants. Nice and warm and well-fed, living on his own terms, free as a lark.
Oh, and you would think this is the end of the pet stories, but it continues yet...