Do you drink milk? 🥛 Oat or soy for me, please. Or almond. Or cashew. Hm. Pretty much any of those (not that they are actually “milk” - I’m pretty sure there’s no one sitting with a tiny stool and pail under an almond or an oat flake and milking it).

The point is - I’m happy to drink any of those. Just not cow’s milk. I am not a calf. I do not have four stomachs to digest that kind of milk, nor was it intended for my delicate, human body. Poor thing, subjecting it to that.

I mean, heck, we don’t drink rat milk or cat milk or dolphin milk (yep, they do produce milk for their babies). The very idea of drinking any of those is gross, right? But from cows? And goats? HUH??

Just goes to show you how we adapt and ‘get used to’ things, I suppose.

I remember when I first got a snake, after building a sweet and unexpected connection with him for months while he was in a pet store and my husband at the time said, “NO!! I’m not having that thing in the house!”

Until this little snake was on sale half price and I was devastated that he would be sold and I’d never get to see him again.

“Husband” relented with “As long as I don’t have to touch that thing, you can have it.” (Although eventually, he rather enjoyed Bob — my snake — and they became good pals because of Bob’s sweet, curious personality and gentle nature).

Anyhoo…when I went back to the shop to collect him after I’d had a chance to prepare a “home” for him, I had to buy frozen mice. First of all, I wouldn’t — couldn’t — feed a “live” animal to another one. Ew. NOOOO!!! And secondly, it’s not good for the snake because rodents often bite snakes — sometimes several times before being consumed — which can lead to diseases that kill it.

(Definitely a lose/lose situation. And the little rodent lost its life for nothing.)

I hadn’t really given any thought to how they would look. I suppose I had it somewhere in my head that they’d look rather like the chicken breasts we find in a shop — not immediately unidentifiable, and neatly packaged in styrofoam and wrapped in plastic.

Uh … nope. They were whole little mice, complete with their adorable little whiskers and ears and teeny tiny feet and claws, and cute little tails. Frozen.

I was horrified. How was I ever going to handle them to feed my little Bob? (I was glad I didn’t know that once he got a lot bigger — 8 feet — I’d have to feed him rats)

The shop lady put Bob in his fancy (not) travel box and I put my ziplock bag of mice into a shopping bag and off I went back home.

I got Bob settled and headed downstairs to the freezer, holding the very edges of the mice bag with the tiniest tips of my finger and thumb, as if it were covered in some evil virus or bacteria.

I put it on top of the washing machine while I rooted around in the freezer for a good place to keep it. I needed it to be accessible but not touching anything that would gross me out later — like having the bag of mice touch a bag of frozen chicken. Which is really kinda dumb. I mean, everything was in packages and then was going to be cooked anyway, so no actual mouse bits had any chance of touching anything my family and I would eat!

But the idea of it … 🤢🫣😖🙅🏻‍♀️🛑

So there I was, digging around, moving packages of frozen chickens and cows and fish to make room for the oh-so-incredibly-gross-little-mice-with-which-I-would-feed-Bob. I picked up a package of stewing beef — you know, big cubes of raw meat.

Suddenly, it occurred to me that I’d spent my life actually touching these and other pieces of raw meat. I didn’t just cook it and eat it. I touched it. Raw. Although if I saw a dead animal lying outside, I would be hard pressed to touch its body. Ew. 🤢 I wouldn’t even be touching its “meat”, so to speak. Just its external lovely body. But ew.

Um … incongruent or what?

Instantly, I got over my issue with touching or having to handle the mice. I realised that I had just got “used to” touching the common meats many people eat in the places I’ve lived.

And for the record … I would love to be vegan for ethical reasons. I’ve done it at various times in my life over the past few decades, most recently just a couple of years ago. But invariably after several months, my health suffers in a huge way. (And no, it’s not about lacking B12 or anything else; I’ve been extra careful to be sure I got more than enough of the correct nutrition because I really, really wanted to maintain that diet).

This body wants me to be a carnivore, whether I like it or not.

It has been quite upsetting to me, but the way I’ve managed to deal with it is by thanking the spirits of the animals who have lost their lives to nourish my body. I never say “sacrifice” because to me, that implies a choice and a willingness to do it. But the poor things have no choice. I have compassion for their suffering, the awful living conditions they experienced, and the fear they must have felt.

So I offer my gratitude and deep appreciation. It doesn’t feel nearly enough but it’s all I’ve got.

I’ve been known to be holding a piece of meat — raw or cooked — and stroking it in tears, apologising for what the animal endured.

It was the same with mice for my snakes, and later with the rats, too, as my snakes grew, especially the boas, who needed a couple of rats at each feed. After thawing them in a bowl of cold water, I would hold them, stroke their fur, look at their cute little faces, and shed tears, apologising for their suffering and offering gratitude for them keeping my snakes healthy.

Not only was it interesting to me that I could change my view of handling these rodents, it also made me look at them in a different way.

No, I still don’t want them in my house (we did have mice a few times in the cottage in England — that’s what you get for country living!). But I had a deeper respect and appreciation for them as animals — much like I’ve seen happen to people who took the time to get to know Bob and my other snakes, or who were willing to learn more about these beautiful and fascinating creatures.

Those rodents are essentially the same as cats and dogs. They are four-legged, furry creatures with the same organs and limbs and tails. They feel pain. They get diseases.

And snakes are the same, too, minus the fur and limbs and they have no external ears. But they have a spleen and two kidneys and they can get diabetes (not commonly). One of my boas had leukemia.

We’ve got “used to” thinking of snakes as slimy (they’re not; they’re lovely and smooth and it’s incredibly calming to pet them). We’ve got used to think of them as creepy, evil. We insult people by calling them snakes (terribly insulting for snakes!).

With a little information and education, and a willingness to have an open mind, we can view snakes — and mice and other rodents — and anything, or anyone else — in a different light. We can get “used to” new information, a new understanding. A new way of thinking about something — anything.

And this is how we adapt and grow and expand ourselves, our inner worlds, and our outer worlds, too. We allow “different” to become familiar. We allow “other” into our lives. We learn more, can do more, can be more.

Everyone wins.

And on the subject of getting used to things, we are adaptable creatuers. It’s in our DNA. It’s how we’ve survived — and keep surviving — as a species. However, we should not get used to a lot of things that aren’t good for us. Like getting used to be treated badly. Getting used to being insulted. Disrespected. Abused. Ignored. Treated like you don’t matter.

Or getting used to poor habits and a lack of self-care and self-love

If you are “used to” something that isn’t good for you, it’s definitely time to expand your view.