Fortunately, most of us keep perspective and never forget that this particular commodity is a living thing and is deserving of necessary care and attention. Despite giving each animal what it needs to thrive the reality doesn’t change; many breeders of reptiles have multiple dozens, hundreds, thousands or even tens of thousands of animals in their care. When the volume gets high the inability of a single individual to adequately tend to the health of the animals is compensated for with manpower. We task our staff with creating a physical environment in which the animals can thrive. The never ending needs of the reptiles are satisfied. In exchange for this wonderful and diverse volume of creatures we, the one’s who love reptiles so much that we decided to dedicate our lives to breeding them, generally give up the chance at making any sort of connection with individual animals. Don’t get me wrong, though. As much as I love them I do not believe that reptiles have the ability to form bi-directional connections the way humans and dogs can. Reptiles are satisfied when their physical needs are taken care of and they associate their owner more along the lines of “he’s not going to eat me” rather than, “he’s my friend”. Humans, however, are not so callous. Our tendency to anthropomorphize allows us to establish bonds with the pets in our lives, regardless of their ability to reciprocate. They become important to us beyond any financial value and when lost, we hurt.

Over the past twenty years the total number of snakes I have owned numbers in the multiple thousands. Through them all I vividly remember the first one. It was one of the only snakes I ever named. Like so many others it was a ball python. He was the first snake I ever watched feed, my nose an inch from the glass. He was the first snake to bite me (my mistake, not his) and despite his meager financial value he was the first snake to which I ever felt a personal attachment. As soon as I made the mental shift to ‘breeder’ I stopped thinking of the animals as pets and began to think of them more as mechanisms of profit. That’s not as emotionless as it sounds. I still have a passion for reptiles, I’m just not passionate about any one reptile.

Some of my reptile breeding peers have lingering warm sentiments toward a select animal or two. I know a few breeders with collections many of us can only dream about that still have their original male pastel or their original het albino male. The animals no longer serve a purpose in their collections but they still can’t bring themselves to let them go. Whether its an emotional attachment or an unwillingness to sell an animal for a few dollars that they probably paid several thousand for isn’t something on which I can speculate. I just know they still have them and won’t let them go. I don’t have any such animals right now. And it has been a long time since I felt connected to any particular python. I know another breeder whose original leopard geckos are over nineteen years old. Those animals mean something to him; something more than any possible money they could bring.

Last week I was in New York for a reptile trade show. We always drive up the night before and stay with some friends. Ever since we have been going up to that show my friends have had a prehensile-tailed skink in their living room. This time, however, the cage was in its usual place but the skink was gone. They explained that after more than 17 years, the skink had passed away. As they told us the story of how it died I caught the two of them briefly make eye contact and in that moment I caught a glimpse of just how sad they were at the loss of their pet. They reflected on the little things the skink had added to their lives, how it had been a fixture of this and several previous living rooms; living rooms that spanned almost two decades. They talked about how the now absent sound of the timer that controlled the cage environment had been a source of comfort in the house; a sound of safety and of home. Their words were not emotional but I could feel their sense of loss. And as much as I could see that they missed their pet I became keenly aware that I have not felt that way about a reptile in a long time. And that has caused me to do a lot of personal reflection. You see, I don’t have any reptiles in my home and it has been that way for a while. I made the decision several years ago to move my entire operation into a facility separate from the place where my family spends its time. At the time the decision was a practical one; reptiles have a distinct smell, the caging I used was not terribly decorative, and I was tired of balancing the environment needs of animals with those of my wife and daughter. I had plenty of reasons. But now I think I need to reconnect. I need a reminder of what it means to have a pet reptile rather than a reptile business.

But even as I type this I wonder if that’s the best thing for me to do. I already have a dog and she is my friend and constant companion. I often lament on how dogs live just long enough to become an incredibly important part of your life and then emotionally rip you apart when they die, frequently by your own decision to put an end to suffering that old age brings them. I constantly wonder if the years of joy they bring to my life is worth the pain I feel when they are gone. Isn’t it easier and less painful to just not have one in the first place? I guess my answer resides in the fact that my dog is lying next to me as I type. As bad as it is going to hurt when she is gone I am glad for this moment right now. But dogs are special. Comparing their capacity for emotion to reptiles is unfair. But remember, it isn’t reptiles who are forming the emotional attachment: we are. And it’s us who will feel the pain of their death. My friends skink lived for 17 years. That’s got to be a lot of hurt. I’ve never had a dog that long. Despite the possibility of pain I think it’s time for me to add a pet reptile back to my life. It’s been too long without one.

For obvious reasons I can’t have a pet ball python. Choices, choices… that’s one thing the world of reptiles brings to us in abundance.

A dog, a cat, a bird, a ferret, a fish, a snake, a frog or a spider.  Each is a pet to someone.  Each is loved in a way that is special to its owner.  Some are not quite your fancy while another is perfect for you.

Across the United States more than 65 million of us choose to have a pet and I respect the rights of every single one of them to responsibly do so.  I myself have never owned or wanted to own a spider but I completely understand the affection and awe that arachnid lovers have for their creatures.  Nobody is likely to argue that they are as affectionate as a dog, but you know what?  They don’t have to be in order to be a pet.  Being a pet owner is not always about companionship.  It is about many other things.  Things like personal responsibility, a sense of wonder, a deeper understanding of and a connection with nature, and a sense of pride for the way you care for your animal.  All of those are valid reasons for pet ownership.

Millions of Americans own spiders.  Millions more own reptiles or birds.  Multiple millions more have a dog or a cat.  I have never questioned the choice of pet that an individual makes.  Your choice to be a responsible pet owner is good enough for me.  The family that chooses a dog as their family pet is just as correct as the couple who has a pet python or the little girl who has a pet hamster.

Being a pet owner is a common bond shared by multiple millions of responsible Americans.  It is unlikely that I will ever own a spider or a ferret or a bird but I will absolutely defend the rights of other Americans to do so.  For their own misguided reasons there are people out there who think they need to inflict their peronal preferences on you and me.  They choose not to own pets of a particular persuasion and feel that nobody else should either.  There is something inherintly audacious and conceited in that perspective and it disappoints me.  They trumpet their cause under the banner of “humane treatment”, “protecting the environment” or “public safety” but the reality is that they want the world to be as they see it.  They don’t accept that a diverse group of people make diverse choices in pets.  Their desire to force-feed us their view of the world pushes me toward anger.  What is even more disappointing is their saavy ability to abuse the political processes in our country to push closer to their desired end.

Around this country pet ownership is under attack.  It is happening at the local, state and federal level.  The rights of dog breeders have been crushed in Tennessee and the rights of reptile owners are in jeopardy in Florida and nationally.  I’m sure that bird owners and breeders are under attack somewhere right now and I don’t even know about it.  Pet owners, because of their diversity have had a historical lack of cohesion.  Within small groups (usually by choice of animal) we fight against those who want to take away our rights.  But the small size of each group diminishes our voice.  The enemies of pet ownership know this and have been using it against us for a long time.  When the day comes that we start to look at one another as “pet owners” and not bird owners, snake owners, dog owners or cat owners we will become a much more powerful voice against those who are working to limit or eliminate our pet owning rights.  The combined voices of the Humane Society of the United States, PETA and all the other organizations seeking to limit or end the rights of pet owners are a mere whimper when compared to the power of a collective voice of all pet owners in America.  Think about it.

If humans are the custodians of this planet then keeping pets is a link to that greater responsibility.  Pet ownership is an attachment to nature and a doorway to a lifetime of learning for many young Americans.  We (as in ALL pet owners) must all work collectively to protect that right.

Cheers,

Colin Weaver