Snakes and Jorge

Lately we have been talking about snakes in class, and I have to admit I am not the biggest fan of snakes.  As long as their is some type of glass wall between them and me, I am fine.  However, if I see one somewhere unexpected or in the wild, I can assure you that I will become a hysterical sobbing mess in seconds.  But honestly what would you expect me to do?  I have spent my whole life in rural Southwest Montana, being warned of the dangers of snakes, especially rattlesnakes.  In elementary school we would receive lectures about what to do if we ever saw a snake, and how to react.  I have watched (from a distance) my father shoot a rattlesnake, and my best friend came home from school one day to find that her dog had died from a rattlesnake bite.  From a young age we are taught to be wary and cautious of snakes, which translates as fear.  

However, that being said, I did become the proud owner of a rattlesnake.  My mother had found one of our cats playing with a baby rattlesnake in the driveway.  She caught it and put it in a jar, and then brought it to the store, where I spent the afternoon introducing Jorge to unsuspecting customers.  Unfortunately, my parents  forced me to surrender Jorge for his sake and my own.  He was released into a beautiful field very far from my house.