Snake School

Last year, we had a rattlesnake in back of our house.  It was April, we knew that snakes had come out of hibernation and Bud was going out with the dogs each night before bedtime.  Notice I said Bud was going out.  He always carried a powerful flashlight and turned on all our outside lights.

It's very dark around here.  Whipple Observatory, the second largest field installation of the Smithsonian is on the highest peak above town and relies on extremely clear, dark skies. So we have no streetlights in town and are committed to low light pollution.  As Bud was rounding a corner in our patio, he didn't see anything unusual, but heard a familiar rattle from his childhood.  That boy still inside him jumped back so fast, he fell over a boulder and scared Louie into running into the house to hide.

We're told to call 911 to report rattlers so we did,  and a fireman ( in a small truck ) came out dressed appropriately and carrying a long pole with "grabbers" on the end. He also had a thick wooden box.

The snake hadn't moved from his spot and was pretty lethargic, so getting hold of it and placing it in the box was an easy task (for him).  The fireman thought he was small - with a potential to give a bite that "wouldn't kill you, but could put you in the hospital," he said.

We were leaving to go back to Nova Scotia soon, so we watched the dogs extremely carefully and decided to enroll Louie our little corgi/cairn terrier in snake avoidance school this year.

Louie, Bud and I arrived at the appointed place at the appointed time.  The trainer and the rattler were already there.  As the trainer talked to us, I matter of factly said, "Obviously, the snake has no venom."
"Actually, he does, but his teeth have been filed and he wears a kind of muzzle," he tells us. " We need the dog to be able to smell the venom."

Then the shock collar went on Louie.  When the trainer tested it on the lowest setting, Louie shot up in the air, let out a blood curdling yelp and ran to hide behind me.  The woman who works at the place came over to give him a treat ( and kissed him ), telling him he was a drama queen.

And then the real drama began.  We went out back to a fenced in area and there, coiled but alert was a huge rattlesnake.  The trainer, Bud, and Louie went inside the fenced area.  Notice I said Bud and Louie went in. When Louie approached the snake for a sniff, he got shocked. I know he got another one, but I can't remember the circumstances.  I've heard that traumatized people do forget things.  Louie, by then, wanted nothing more to do with that snake.  He turned away, wouldn't look at it and tried herding Bud out of there.

I thought it was all over, training done.  Instead, the guy went over and got some secretion from the snake's anal region and then milked him for venom through the muzzle. He picked the snake up and offered it to Louie. Now Louie, like most dogs, is used to being offered treats and wonderful things from humans so he got close enough to get a good smell and got a good shock in the process. "Dogs remember things through smell," the trainer said.

I left my " huddling outside the fence" position on that administered shock and rushed inside.

Soon, the trainer, and Louie- pulling Bud with a force we've never seen in him before-came in to the building where I was standing, unable to give any comforting assurance to the couple who were nervous novices at snake school and next in line.

The trainer very professionally declared Louie a success and told us all the reasons why he did so well and that he probably wouldn't need to have a refresher course next year.

When he does need that refresher course, I'm not going.