This weekend I lost someone I loved very much. Someone who had been in my life for the last seven years, and part of my best friend’s life for the past 22 years.
This weekend I lost a pet who held a very special place in my heart. He was more than just a part of the landscape of my home, more than just another mouth to feed or another consideration to take into account when it was time to move.
Monty was a very special part of my life, even though many people couldn’t understand just why I loved him so much.
You see, Monty was a Burmese python – a very large snake for those not into herpetology. He was nine feet of beautiful gold and green/brown scales who loved sleeping under heat lamps, eating large rats, and escaping to climb bookcases and create giant messes.
I suppose for people that have only ever had cats and dogs as pets it can seem strange to open your home and heart to exotic creatures. How can you love something that doesn’t seem to love you back? That doesn’t seem to care whether you are coming or going in their lives?
Of course those people have never walked up to the tortoise box and had little faces turn up in expectation of food or attention. They’ve never had a Bearded dragon snuggle down in their lap for a nap, enjoying human warmth while you get a cuddle. They’ve never enjoyed ‘snake snuggle time’ (trademark pending) which is … exactly what it sounds like actually.
Perhaps my reptiles don’t show me affection the way a cat or dog will, and perhaps they don’t love me the same as another mammal might. But that doesn’t make my love for them any less. That doesn’t mean I care for them with any less of my time and energy than I would a different kind of pet.
That doesn’t make them any less special than cats or dogs I’ve met. My exotics all have their own personalities and quirks. My little Russian tortoise Nadia thinks she can climb walls and is afraid of nothing. My Bearded dragon Elliot hates me but loves some of my friends.
And Monty. Monty was amazing. Monty helped hundreds of children learn about snakes and reptiles and get over their fears of scaly creatures. He traveled to schools and pet stores and daycare centers for over two decades to help with exotic animal education. There are hundreds of people out there that will always have a memory of meeting Monty. Of petting him and holding him and learning about him.
That helps my heart a little. Knowing that even if most of those people never interact with a snake again in their lives, they did once and it was special (or weird or frightening or surprising) for them and their memory of that moment will live on.
I loved Monty. I loved him for the hours I’d spend chattering at him while he’d coil up in my lap like he was listening (he wasn’t of course, snakes don’t have ears, but I liked to pretend anyway). I loved him for how he’d try to hide his ridiculously long body in small bags, or tiny boxes, so really just his head was hidden but the rest of him was out where I could see. I loved him for the way he’d splash water everywhere and knock over shampoo bottles and make a mess just like any dog or kid when I had to give him a bath in the bathtub (cause he was much too big for the sink).
I loved him for all of those special moments I got to spend with him. I loved him because he was gentle and amazing and fun to observe and he’d hide in my hair when I held him and because every day I’d walk into my room and there he would be. And maybe he only showed interest in what I was doing because I might have a tasty rat for him, but that didn’t matter to me
I didn’t love him any less because he didn’t love me the way I loved him. I’m just grateful that love doesn’t rely on rules and conditions like that to exist. I’m grateful I got to have him in my life for the years that I did.
– Mia V.
*The Humane Society of the United States has a great article on coping with grief after losing a pet. You can check it out here.
