Tuesday, May 31, 2016

The Runaway Spider

Last night, I saw a big spider [well not BIG big, but big enough] stroll across the bed.

I said to my husband, "Spider!"

He grabbed a Kleenex. I took my eye off the spider for just a second and the darn thing jumped off the bed. We looked for him/her but he/she had disappeared.

When it comes to tracking invasive insects, my husband is not one to throw in the towel, or Kleenex in this case. He leaves no stone, or piece of furniture, unturned until he catches his quarry.

Aha! He spotted it, pounced, and mushed it. The spider  had been nearly invisible, sitting on top of a dark blue cloth. Neat camouflage. Smart spider. [Must've been a she.] 

But then, it just sat there, probably eyes closed, legs hiding its head. [I was now convinced it was a he.]

No matter. RIP little spider. [He was no longer big after being squished.]

We knew from previous encounters with spiders that they have a keen sense of hearing. This one had heard me call his name, that's why he went running, hoping to hide from the... humans? Big people? We probably looked like King Kong to him.

Well, how would he know what to call us? He wouldn't even know that he was a spider. That's our name for him. In his tiny little mind maybe he thought he was a god, creating fancy intricate webs to snare lesser creatures and gobble them up.

All we humans can do is spin fancy webs in our minds. 

And once in a while humans do something magical. [Could've done without the advertising, though.]


-- Cat