Slithery snakes, sexual abuse, and being brave

I have a fear of having a snake show up in my garage.
Lest you think I am paranoid, this actually happens in my neighborhood from time to time. If you live in the country, you know what I mean.
I am not afraid of snakes in my yard and have learned to identify the common East Texas varieties.
I know I can take a deep breath, get my shovel, and cut the heads off the venomous varieties. I’ve done it so often that I am confident that I am the smarter, faster adversary.
But there is something so claustrophobic about meeting up with a snake, of any variety, in close quarters. It gives me the creeps and makes my skin crawl.
I have a very beautiful friend who has the cleanest, most ship-shape home I know. She is the last person on earth to find a snake in the garage, especially since she lives right in the heart of Tyler, surrounded by neighbors, neatly fenced yards, and concrete curbing.
Not like out here where we live, surrounded by woods, pastures, and oil top lanes.
One day she found a snake in her domain, all right.
And not in the garage, either.
That snake found his way to her master bedroom and was relaxing near her bed! Imagine the panic.
That was the snake’s final and most deadly activity – for him.
My friend’s brave and dashing grandson had the snake decapitated in no time.
On any given week day, in courtrooms all across the US, victims of sexual abuse are taking the stand to testify, often about close friends and trusted family members.
You may wonder how parents could not notice, but the truth is, just like snakes, sexual predators are sneaky and slithery.
This column is dedicated to the young victims who have the courage to testify.
Thank you for taking another snake out of action.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.