The Right Call

[Skiploder]

I don't know how old my oldest thrasops really is. She was imported in with her full black adult coloration - so she was maybe two or three at the least. I've had her about twelve years. While 14 or 15 doesn't seem young to the boid crowd, some of these high metabolism colubrids seem to have much shorter internal expiration dates.

What I do know is that she is blind in her remaining eye, having lost the other awhile ago - this remaining eye is cloudy and sightless.

I moved her out of her arboreal cage, as she seemed content to just stay motionless on the floor. She's eating and pooping fine, but moving her water bowl can result in dehydration as she has problems finding it. For all intents and purposes, she as close to an invalid as a snake can get.

For the last six months, she can't shed on her own. She'll break the head and push it back to her neck and then - nothing. So I've been giving her a helping hand.

This evening was such a night. It's a balmy 82 degrees as I write this and we just spent an hour in the crab apple tree that spreads it's canopy over half of the herp building. She writhes from branch to branch until she gets a good tube of skin pushed down like an old turtle neck while I mist her with the garden hose - the water still warm from the 100 degrees we hit today.

Then I assist her, rolling her skin down the length of her body while she climbs from branch to branch. I marvel at the fact that she's producing a lot of lubricant - as both her and my hands smell strongly of anise - and wonder why she refuses to do this on her own.

For the last year I've debating euthanizing her - she can't see and she is pretty lethargic - but on nights like tonight, I can't bring myself to do it. Her being in the tree, allowing me to roll her skin down and watching her climb is a treat. The fact that she trusts me to do it, and the undeniable fact that the act banishes away the thoughts of ending her life make it a time to treasure. Although I know better, I amuse myself by thinking that maybe she refuses to shed her own skin so we can spend this time together.

But in my heart I know that's not it. She's old, blind and tired. She doesn't shed simply because it's an act that takes effort and energy that she just doesn't have.

So I made myself a deal tonight. As I don't see her having that many summers left, she and I will share crab apple tree time at 4 AM and 9 PM every day as long as the weather allows. I'm willing to get up 30 minutes early every day to do this for her. The only time she seems to summon the energy to do anything is when I place her in that tree - who knows, maybe it stirs an instinctual need that she has been unable to fulfill since she came into my care.

I'll keep doing it until the mornings and the nights become to cold for her. At that point, we'll move into the greenhouse and keep our twice a day dates.

The right call? The right call is to provide her this in the winter of her life. When she can no longer muster the energy to enjoy the tree, I will make the final call and end it for her. Then I will bury her remains at the base of the tree.

Under the cold fluorescents in the snake house I slide her back into her drawer - a big 39x18x9 rubbermaid tub - guiding her head towards her water bowl so she can drink. The contrast is stark - the tree and the tub - and I don't begrudge her depression.

Yes, I think twice a day in the tree is something I owe her. And as I slide her back into her drawer I tell her that when the tree no longer erases the years and somehow magically cancels out her blindness, I will take that as a sign from her that she's ready to spend ALL of her time with the tree.