SLITHERY SNAKES, A KISSY BUG & THE EARLY BIRD

Another very fun morning on the yard sale trail. Beautiful sunny fall day, chilly at first but warming nicely as I went on. Talked to nice folks, nice dogs, nice snake…

That’s right. I said snake. I always say you never know what you’ll find on driveways on Saturday morning, and today is further proof. Absolutely the first time I have seen a snake for sale at a yard sale! If you feel about snakes the way I do about bugs, you’re going to want to scroll quickly with your eyes barely cracked open until you get past the pics. For the rest of us, let me introduce Snickers.
I believe they said she is a ball python. This family is moving to Nevada and decided to give up snake keeping, though the mom said to me, “We’re asking a hundred, and if I don’t get at least seventy five she’s coming with us.” Somehow the emotional attachment to a snake does not seem the same as that with furry creatures (though that may be just my fur bias showing). Snickers’ original name was Sergeant Slither, until they found out he was a she. (I did not ask how they discovered this. After all, I had a girl kitty named Tim many years ago.) The mom said she suggested they change the name to Sergeant Sally Slithers, because a girl can certainly be a sergeant. But her boys decided to go with Snickers.

I may be off candy bars for a while.

The morning was not without its fur people. Billy turned out to be a girl as well.
Six months old, pound puppy, anyone’s guess as to parentage. I asked what kind of dog she was and the girl petting her cooed, “She’s a Great Big Soft Kissy Bug.” The Kissy Bug swerved over to me and got in a goodly lick on my ear. I thought she lived at the house having the sale, but turned out her family live down the street and they were taking a walk. I heard the dad ask how much the stuffed toys were, and when the answer was “a quarter,” he gathered up an armful. “We let the dogs play with them until they shred them, then buy a new batch at another yard sale,” he said. When I returned to my car I saw them heading down the street. Billy the Kissy Bug pup had a purple toy and was shaking it as she went. I heard the dad saying in a really satisfied voice, “Three dollars for all these toys!”

When I walked up to the last sale of the morning I heard a high pitched whimpering from the garage. Hercules just couldn’t wait for me to get close enough for some petting.
Don’t be fooled by this deceptively scary-looking mug. He’s a total sweetie pie, a bulldog/boxer/kissy bug cross. Another pound puppy, much loved by his long-suffering (literally) owner. She told me he’s so strong that she’s broken her ankle twice while walking him. It was quite a struggle to find a restraint that would let her walk him. She finally tried a ‘pinch’ collar and that was working for them. Lest you think he was being cruelly treated, I think this style exerts much more even pressure on the dog’s neck than a choke chain. It's not something I would use, but she tried a number of other methods first. And he was one happy dog.

Speaking of happy dogs, remember the terrier mix I wrote about last week, who needed to find a new home? I emailed my children’s librarians about her, and Rebecca, who has a soft heart for terriers, called Abby’s owner. She learned that they had seen an apartment that would let them keep Abby, so we think all is well. Whew!

Didn’t buy much this morning, only four items for a total of $4.75. Found another children’s librarian door prize—a sea creature drawing book.
A DVD I’ve heard good things about.
A large candle lantern for the yard.
And my favorite—this sweet Christmas decoration.
It's a 2005 piece by Nicole Sayre. Have to admit I wasn’t familiar with this line, but evidently her pieces sell for $50 to $100 retail. I am quite smitten with him, the goofy little smile and the dictionary-page hat.
He’s about 11” high, and the box he’s standing on adds another 3”. Inside the box is an extra little ornament, I guess in case one gets broken—kind of like that extra button sewn into the side seam of a piece of clothing.
One of the ladies at the sale where I bought him told me they’d already sold a lot of stuff, people had been there at 6 a.m. I said I leave my house about seven; earlier seems uncivilized. She said something about early birds, so I recited this little poem by Shel Silverstein:

If you’re a bird, be an early bird
And catch the worm for your breakfast plate.
If you’re a bird be an early bird.
But if you’re a worm—sleep late.