I'd known Wilson for almost four years, and I didn't like her but I tolerated her. And my husband didn't have much interest in her either to my relief. Then out of the blue one day, he wanted to play with her. Wilson, a four year old (at the time) ball python, was owned by my friend Gina. She'd bought the snake from the flea market when it was a neonate. By this time, the snake was about four and a half feet long. My husband asked if he could hold the snake, and sat there for an hour, letting her crawl all over him. She rubbed her face against his goatee, through his hair. He fell in love that day.

A few months later, Gina calls me and says she's moving and can't have the snake and wants to know if I know of anyone that would like to buy it. She was ours that Friday.

At the time, Gina told me the snake was a male, and at the time the snake's name wasn't Wilson. The name Wilson came from my husband, naming her after the soccer ball in Cast Away. And a trip to the vet a few months later when she went off feed gave us the discovery that he was a she.

We've had Wilson since the middle of 2005. From her, we've learned so much. Snakes are no longer something to be feared, but respected and appreciated for what they do for us in nature. They make excellent pets, they don't bark, you don't have to feed them every day, and couldn't care less if you don't play with them every day. She also started the ball rolling on a fun and interesting hobby. Like tattoos, you can't have just one snake. One became two, then four, then six. And in less than a month, we added four snakes. (Three were Wilson's first clutch, which I will write about later).

In the beginning, I was still a bit scared, but with time I learned to relax. I don't go as far as my husband and let her get in my face, but she and I respect that we are the other woman in his life.

After almost six years of keeping and adding new snakes, Wilson is still my husband's favorite. They still sit on the couch together, her crawling through his hair as she drapes across his shoulders.

To add, my friend Gina, who created my husband's love of snakes which then created mine, was killed in May. I think of Gina every time I look at Wilson, and I'm thankful I have a wonderful reminder of a very dear friend. I hate that I never had the chance to tell Gina about Wilson and her eggs, as she laid about a month after Gina's death. I know she would have loved the thought!