Snakes On A Truck
Yesterday was weird. Besides being blazing hot all day out at work, some odd stuff happened.
First thing in the morning, on our way to Cambridge along the stinking morass of southbound traffic on the highway, I saw from my position in the driver's seat of the truck what I though was a blown retread in the middle of the road. As we got closer, I realized that it wasn't actually a retread, but rather an enormous exotic snake, stranded in the middle of the highway. This critter was a good 7-8 feet long, a thick, python-y type beastie that was clearly someone's lost or abandoned pet.
I was furious. I don't know much about snakes, but I know that this poor creature didn't belong in the middle of route 93. I pulled the truck over, assembled a box, and had my two Lithuanian comrades stop traffic. I intended to rescue the critter, box it temporarily, and drop it off at a police station on my way to our job. As I got closer, I realized why it was thrashing around so much: it had been mortally wounded by a car already, and was partially paralyzed and not long for this world. I figured before that I could probably pick him/her up without anything worse than a few minor nonvenomous bites on the arm, but now that I was closer I realized there was no way I could handle the snake in such a way that wouldn't cause it further agony. Animal Control wasn't an option, as traffic was at a near standstill, backed up to Reading (!). I went back to the truck and looked through my toolbox, retrieving my hammer. I intended to finish the poor thing off with a quick shot to the head (it was REALLY hurt, I'll spare you gory details) and at least end its suffering, but when I got back to the snake I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't live with myself if I missed or mis-struck while it was thrashing around and just caused it more pain, and I couldn't get a clear shot at it as it lashed around on the part of its body that still worked. I put the hammer back and drove away after calling the police. I'm still very much wrestling with the whole issue, and I'm not sure I did the right thing.
Later in the day, I discovered that due to a comical case of mistaken identity, Sandy and my supervisors at work had been led to believe that I had broken my hand on the job and was incommunicado in some unknown hospital. Sandy was understandably upset.
I am so grouchy lately. I don't know why. I think I need counselling, or medication, or both. I've been a beast to be around.
First thing in the morning, on our way to Cambridge along the stinking morass of southbound traffic on the highway, I saw from my position in the driver's seat of the truck what I though was a blown retread in the middle of the road. As we got closer, I realized that it wasn't actually a retread, but rather an enormous exotic snake, stranded in the middle of the highway. This critter was a good 7-8 feet long, a thick, python-y type beastie that was clearly someone's lost or abandoned pet.
I was furious. I don't know much about snakes, but I know that this poor creature didn't belong in the middle of route 93. I pulled the truck over, assembled a box, and had my two Lithuanian comrades stop traffic. I intended to rescue the critter, box it temporarily, and drop it off at a police station on my way to our job. As I got closer, I realized why it was thrashing around so much: it had been mortally wounded by a car already, and was partially paralyzed and not long for this world. I figured before that I could probably pick him/her up without anything worse than a few minor nonvenomous bites on the arm, but now that I was closer I realized there was no way I could handle the snake in such a way that wouldn't cause it further agony. Animal Control wasn't an option, as traffic was at a near standstill, backed up to Reading (!). I went back to the truck and looked through my toolbox, retrieving my hammer. I intended to finish the poor thing off with a quick shot to the head (it was REALLY hurt, I'll spare you gory details) and at least end its suffering, but when I got back to the snake I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't live with myself if I missed or mis-struck while it was thrashing around and just caused it more pain, and I couldn't get a clear shot at it as it lashed around on the part of its body that still worked. I put the hammer back and drove away after calling the police. I'm still very much wrestling with the whole issue, and I'm not sure I did the right thing.
Later in the day, I discovered that due to a comical case of mistaken identity, Sandy and my supervisors at work had been led to believe that I had broken my hand on the job and was incommunicado in some unknown hospital. Sandy was understandably upset.
I am so grouchy lately. I don't know why. I think I need counselling, or medication, or both. I've been a beast to be around.