This is Woodrow, my ball python and timorous life companion. I’ve had him for four years this month, so happy anniversary bro. About every other month I have a dream about how I’ve failed in my responsibilities in his care and then he croaks. I had one last night. Always sad. They’re usually elaborate and involve his temperature dropping too low, which causes him to regurgitate various things. Last night it was that he defecated and then vomited up a tumor that looked like a pagan idol, which I didn’t think too much of. My sister said I should take it to the vet, and so I did, but by then it was too late and he was a goner.

I can’t imagine what kinds of dreams I’d be having if I had children with faces to match their human names.