I was at the pet shop, getting frozen mice for Lenore, when this girl opened her mouth and let stupidity ooze out.
Her boyfriend was holding two ball pythons (a very small, very harmless python) trying to decide which one he wanted. She was freezing up, waxing dramatic, and insisting that he not even touch her, going on and on about how scary snakes are and how, “I’m just going to get a cute puppy and keep that thing away from me.” Then she looked around the room the way one looks around the room, after saying something ignorant, searching for support from strangers with one’s eyes.
She finally turned to me, silently seeking support from me. I smiled and leaned in and whispered to her the overwhelming statistical percentage that says how very much (as in with all certainty) more likely she’ll end up brutally killed by her adorable puppy (dogs being the number one man-killing animal) than her boyfriend’s harmless snake. In the realm of far out possibilities (lightening strikes, etc.), her puppy tearing out her throat was not all that far fetched.
I used to have a lot of patience for silly snake fear. I don’t anymore. When someone screams and goes frigid over an acute terror of a ceiling fan, we tell them this is irrational and that they should correct or maybe seek counseling to correct this psychological anamoly. When someone has the same paralyzing fear (we take it for granted…but really, these are adults with a paralyzing fear, they actually react to it physically), we pat them on the back. Bah!