In a moment of sheer irony, I find myself on the eve of a feeding seemingly straight out of Mice Don't Taste Like Chicken. Art may imitate life, but sometimes it is the other way around.
Two weeks ago, when I began my new teaching job, I accepted an offer from a colleague to house her two corn snakes, Beatrice and Priscilla, in my room as class pets. Their unusual cage antics throughout this week signaled their hunger.
So, off to the pet store I went.
Associate: "How can I help you?"
Me: "I'm looking for some white mice. For a snake feeding."
Associate (grinning): (5 second pause) "Sure, right over here."
I followed her, mini-plastic cage in hand, to the feeder mice and walked out of the store with two trembling rodents.
And now here I am, 8:45 on the eve of the feeding, concerned about those two little creatures, huddled together in my office. I mean, I even fed them a few Cheerios. That's one step away from naming them!
And so, my inner Drew fights its battle. Who is there to save them?
But such is the circle of life. Snakes eat mice. As Mr. Cross would say, "I can't deny their nature."
"Live, Learn, Teach"