Snake

This is inspired by jo(e)'s latest post, but so loosely and tangentially that it seems silly to put it in the comments there.

At one point in my AT hike, I caught up with my friend Fishdance, who was standing in the middle of the Trail, stock still. (Mo, were you there, too?) There was a large black snake spread all the way across the path several yards ahead. I stopped next to him and we discussed the snake for a second or two. It was big, seriously thick around the middle, and looked perfectly happy to stay there all day. It looked like it had nothing planned at all except to stay there all day. What to do?

Diva Dog, who was usually a little behind me, caught up. We called to her to stop, but it was too late. She passed us in her dog backpack.

Her paw came down on the snake, the pads spreading slightly as if she were stepping on a smooth stone.

The snake's gleaming, muscular body flattened out slightly under her weight.

Her paw came off of the snake.

The snake returned, unchanged and unmoved, to its original shape.

Diva Dog turned and looked back at us, curious about why we were focused on her, why we were stopped, and what we were making all the fuss about. Deciding it was simply her, and delighted at all the attention, she started to move back towards us, still showing no sign at all that she was aware of the snake's presence. Anxious that she not step on the snake again, I stepped across it. We all did. The snake took no action to move out of the way.

Clearly, we had given it no reason to change its plans.