I Have Had It With These Monkey-Fighting Snakes

12 May 2021

Today’s prompt: “Think of the most frightening experience anyone has ever related to you – a carjacking, a dogfight, a robbery – and imagine what it must have been like to be personally involved. Start with the experience in real time.”

The sun should start to set in about half an hour. It’ll be dark by the time you and Maverick get back from your run, but that’s all right. It’ll give the air a chance to cool down, there won’t be as many people around, and you’ve got a flashlight on your phone if you need it.

The dust along the trail puffs into the air beneath your sneakers and Maverick’s paws. Your legs keep time with your workout playlist.

There’s not much on this path – no shade trees, no streams or canals, just a series of sagebrush-covered foothills with a few different species of scraggly wildflowers interspersed throughout. But it’s one of the longest off-leash trails in your part of the city.

Maverick has been running back and forth along the trail in front of you, but now he looks at you expectantly. You pull a filthy tennis ball from your bag and chuck it down the trail, trying to keep it on the path so he won’t tear up the native flora or get goat heads in his paws. Maverick burns down the path toward the ball, grabs it on the second bounce, and trots back to you.

You wrestle the ball out of Maverick’s mouth and toss it again. The ball bounces, then rolls along the trail, and the trail dust adheres to Maverick’s slobber. He brings the ball to you, and as you try to take it away from his still closed jaws, you wonder again at this devil’s bargain that leaves you pulling a ball you do not want from a dog that does not want to give it to you.

You throw the ball again. It bounces to the right of the path, a few yards off, and rolls out of view. Maverick bounds after it. As you pound along the trail, you expect him to emerge from the sagebrush any second, but he doesn’t.

You slow your pace as you approach the part of the trail where you last saw Mav. You spot him – butt up in the air, head down, tail wagging. And then you hear the sound. A rattler.

The snake is coiled, ready to strike, but Maverick is reacting like it’s a plaything. Even if the snake is prepared to drop the whole thing – which doesn’t seem likely at this moment – and go back into its hole, Maverick looks intent on digging the snake back up.

If we get out of this thing, you think, I am enrolling you in snake avoidance training first thing tomorrow, Maverick.

“Maverick! Come here, Mav!” you call. Your dog ignores you and play bites at the snake, barely avoiding the snake’s jaws as it moves to return the favor for real.

You grab the treat pouch from your bag and shake it. “Here, Maverick! Leave that alone! Come here!” Maverick doesn’t even glance your way – just barks enthusiastically at the snake.

Okay. Just need to try to keep as much distance as possible between you and the snake while you grab Maverick’s collar and pull him out of there. You walk in a wide circle, approaching the side of Maverick opposite the rattler.

You’re so focused on what’s going on in front of you, you don’t even hear the second snake until you’re right on top of it. As the venom courses through your system, you wish you’d picked a shorter trail.