Yesterday I hit a snake. I feel horribly guilty about it. I guess the fact I’m one of these wimps that feels bad about killing a roach makes me sort of, uh, weak. I’m not proud of it, but I’d rather be seen as a wimp then recognize the dark nature of a murderer in myself.

I have to question why I care. If you go by the Judeo-Christian teachings, we are suppose to have dominion over the animals and with the snake being enemy #1, he should be the first target of our wrath as the thinking, superior intelligent over lords of this planet. The truth is I am petrified of snakes. Grass snakes, Black Racers or Cobras. I make no distinction. They all scare me.


So I have to ask myself, did I make the best attempt I could have to not hit this snake. He was really trucking across the road. I remember seeing him in the road with the sun glistening off his back. Then next thing I know he is in my rearview balled up in agony. I did swerve, but I really still feel like part of me wanted to hit the little guy. He was just minding his own business.

If I have children I want to instill in them compassion. You shouldn’t hurt something else just because you don’t like it or worse yet, simply because you fear it. If the world operated like that, we’d be sending troops to eve…never mind, the world does operate like that. I just hoped for myself I could transcend the human desire to squelch one’s enemies real or imagined.