Anécdotas de una serpiente que fue mascota/ Stories About a Snake That Was a Pet
Cuando somos niños, la idea de tener una mascota pasa en algún momento por nuestra cabeza, y aunque muchos padres se niegan a ello, cuando eso realmente sucede, es magia. Sin embargo, a veces no es un perro o un gatito lo que llega a la casa, y aunque no sean convencionales, hay ocasiones en las que la magia viene rodeada de ciertos peligros.
Uno de los recuerdos más lindos de mi infancia fue cuando vi llegar a mi primera perrita, era una pequeña motita de pelo marrĂłn que no llegaba al mes, pues tuvieron que sacarle la camada a la madre, quien terminĂł descalcificada por amamantar a 8 cachorritos hambrientos. Mi padre, quien no querĂa perros en la casa, al final era su mayor defensor.
Esa misma señora, quien era la madre de mi mejor amiga de entonces (luego por cosas de la vida nos distanciamos) un dĂa llegĂł a casa con una peculiar mascota; una serpiente. VenĂa en una pequeña cartera toda enrollada, y hasta parecĂa dormir. La primera reacciĂłn mĂa y de mi madre fue de susto, y aĂşn más cuando la sacĂł para mostrarla en toda su extensiĂłn. Era de un color similar a la arena, con rayas de un color crema que iban dibujadas de manera simĂ©trica de punta a punta. Nos explicĂł que se trataba de una "tragavenados" o como se llama cientĂficamente Boa Constrictora. En esos dos minutos aclarĂł que no era venenosa, pues ella caza a sus presas apretándolas hasta que fallecen.
La habĂan encontrado en la finca que tenĂan en las afueras de la ciudad, siendo todavĂa muy pequeña, y al ver que no era venenosa, decidieron quedársela. La alimentaban con pequeños ratones blancos que compraban cada 15 dĂas, y dormĂa en una pecera que habĂa quedado vacĂa en su casa.
Inclusive me la prestaron un par de dĂas para llevarla a una feria que hicieron en mi escuela secundaria, donde hablarĂamos de las mascotas, y aunque yo tenĂa un perro, era más cĂłmodo tenerla en el bolsito y solo sacarla cuando hiciera mi exposiciĂłn.
No tenĂa nombre, igual tampoco responderĂa a uno si le llamaran por Ă©l, pero mi amiga y sus hermanas disfrutaban verla serpentear por su casa, y tratar de encontrarla cuando se escondĂa, aunque ya habĂan determinado que la parte inferior del closet era su favorita.
Ya luego de casi un año con ella en casa, al regresar un dĂa a la finca, decidieron dejarla libre, pues habĂa duplicado su tamaño al punto de no poder estar en la pecera por las noches, y como su accionar era sigiloso, tenĂan miedo de que por las noches pudiera atacar a alguno de la familia.
Sin embargo, cada vez que iban a la finca, en algĂşn momento del fin de semana, aparecĂa cerca de la casa, como reportándose con quienes en algĂşn momento fueron su familia cercana.
When we’re kids, the idea of getting a pet crosses our minds at some point, and even though many parents say no, when it actually happens, it’s magical. However, sometimes it’s not a dog or a kitten that comes home, and even if they’re not conventional pets, there are times when that magic comes with certain dangers.
One of my fondest childhood memories was when my first little dog arrived. She was a tiny brown furball less than a month old—they’d had to take the litter away from her mother, who ended up malnourished from nursing eight hungry puppies. My father, who didn’t want dogs in the house, ended up being her biggest advocate.
That same woman—who was the mother of my best friend at the time (though later, as life would have it, we drifted apart)—came home one day with a peculiar pet: a snake. It was coiled up inside a small purse and even seemed to be sleeping. My first reaction—and my mother’s—was one of fear, and even more so when she took it out to show it in its full length. It was a sandy color, with cream-colored stripes running symmetrically from head to tail. She explained that it was a “vein-eater,” or, as it’s scientifically known, a boa constrictor. In those two minutes, she clarified that it wasn’t venomous, since it hunts its prey by squeezing it until it dies.
They had found her on the farm they owned on the outskirts of town when she was still very small, and when they saw that she wasn’t poisonous, they decided to keep her. They fed her small white mice that they bought every 15 days, and she slept in an empty fish tank they had at home.
They even let me borrow her for a couple of days to take her to a fair at my high school, where we were going to talk about pets, and even though I had a dog, it was more convenient to keep her in the little bag and only take her out when I gave my presentation.
She didn’t have a name—and she probably wouldn’t have responded to one anyway—but my friend and her sisters enjoyed watching her slither around their house and trying to find her when she hid, even though they’d already figured out that the bottom of the closet was her favorite spot.
After nearly a year with her at home, when they returned to the farm one day, they decided to set her free, since she had doubled in size to the point where she could no longer fit in the tank at night, and because she was so stealthy, they were afraid she might attack someone in the family at night.
However, every time they went to the farm, at some point over the weekend, she would appear near the house, as if checking in with those who had once been her close family.
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