Keeping Good Eye on the Snake

I REALLY liked writing this one. This was a true story. Actually, the snake was pregnant as well.. (I used a male snake in the poem because it just seemed to fit better)

I sensed some hint of passing death.
I ran outside, then caught my breath.
Behind my dog I saw small face
belonging to a snake misplaced.

I quickly played through ways to kill
this passing beast. I wished bad will
upon this beast who wished its skill
would kill my beast, for its own thrill.

One way, I thought, was with sling shot,
but rock may strike yet kill him not,
so I devised a simple plot
by which to end him in his spot.

I had in past been given gun
for my own fun. This b.b. gun
which fate had won in choosing me
to break this snake so easily.

Again I ran outside to face
this breathing beast in his new place,
which wasn't 'his' at all I'll say.
I'd make 'that' clear this very day.

My gun I held as strictly as
the guards held those in Alcatraz,
and without pause I pulled and shot
and gave poor snake his resting spot.