My first year of practice, I was talking to an owner in an exam room when I saw her eyes go wide and she yelled, “SPIDER!”
I looked down and saw a large arachnid crawling across the table towards her poodle. Without missing a beat, I grabbed a large drug compendium and put an end to the assault. The lady looked up, cocked her head, and said, “I guess you don’t love all the animals, then.”
I felt terrible, actually. My grandmother would not have approved. She would capture daddy longlegs in little glasses and transport them outside, or just as frequently, leave them alone. “They eat bugs,” she said. “It’s bad luck to kill them,” she said.
But I didn’t live with my grandmother, my dad’s mother. I lived with my mom, who learned from her mom that the best way to deal with a spider was a Dr. Scholl’s sandal, the one with the big wooden sole.
I think about that day, and how I would have to make up for it lest I be followed through my life by angry hordes of spiders. As you are about to see, I think I’m still paying.
Yesterday, the kids called me in to assess a spider situation in the guest bedroom. It was, they claimed, a huge spider, which could mean anything from “dime sized” on up. I went in, and yes, it was actually a huge spider. Probably an inch or two across, I didn’t get too close.
The good news was, it wasn’t a black widow or a recluse, and in the interest of being good to my grandmother’s memory I told the kids, “let’s just shoo it under the armoire. See? It’s as scared of you as you are of it.” I did not notice the tiny peals of laughter from the spider as it ran away. I did not realize she was simply approaching us with a familial sense of pride to show off her brood.
A couple of minutes later, my son came out again. “There’s a bunch more,” he said.
“What?” I asked. “Spiders?”
“Yes,” he said. “Like, 8.”
I went back into the office, a sense of disquiet taking over me. “Where?”
“On the bed,” he said.
And there, crawling all over the guest bed, was an army of teensy tiny baby spiders, which had apparently just hatched from whatever hellspawn was hiding under my armoire.
No. I do not love all the animals. This I can say now with great certainty.
Since I can’t find my flamethrower, I was stuck with simply tossing the entire set of bedding out into the courtyard with a scream and spending the next two hours vacuuming every nook and cranny in the room, stopping only long enough to call my husband on his work trip and freak out into the receiver. The mother spider, of course, was now nowhere to be found. Her work was done. For now, at least.
I was up until three in the morning startling at every shift of the bedsheet. If anyone can recommend a good pest control service in San Diego, I need one out stat. *shudder*
you’re hilarious, Dr. V! I mostly like spiders and view them as my friend. Although I have been known to squash a few from time to time. We had a “writer spider” in our yard the other day and I told my daughter I felt a weird sort of sense of protection with it there. But I am not convinced I would not have been a little squeamish with that many baby spiders running around!
oh, and can I just say that I still love Dr. Scholl’s and I miss the days when you could get them in the Walgreens in one of 3 colors. They never did make my calves look toned but Tab never made me look like the Tab girl either…..
Writing this post has made me nostalgic for my Dr. Scholl’s. Tab, not so much. 😉 My mother used to drink it and even back then it tasted like jet fuel.
I’m totally okay with non-poisonous spiders, when they’re in their territory (exclusively defined as “outside of my house”). Inside of my house = battle with whatever convenient Dr Scholl’s substitute is within my reach. I save crickets and moths and other creepy crawlies, but spiders do not belong inside!
Right! The spiders have all the square footage of my yard all to themselves, all I ask for is that they leave my house alone. MY BEDDING ALONE AUGH
I don’t mind spiders, but my husband sure does. Just this evening he came out of his man cave to inform me there was a spider “As big as an SUV, smoking a cigar and giving him the finger.”
It turned out to be 1-2 inches like your mother spider. I got a mop (all that was handy) to squish it, while hubby (a foot taller and far more built, I might add) huddled behind me and demanded that I squish it on the first try, lest it disappear into the woodwork and leave him wondering where it was.
It took me several minutes to dispatch it, as its exoskeleton was made out of some super-strength material that stood up well to being bashed. Picture that Lord of the Rings spider fight. 😉 I finally got him taken care of, and will now retire my mop to more mundane chores, like cleaning.
Smoking a cigar? That must have been my spider’s baby daddy. You are a good wife. 🙂
I never minded spiders until I was bit by a black widow. Now all spiders (with the exception of daddy longlegs) are dead spiders.
We had a big fat mama hanging outside the dining room window which was freaking me out until late one night I saw her munching on a stink bug so I decided to let her stay. We named her Zebra. I would not be happy with dozens of little guys running around in my house, though. But I try to teach the kids not to kill anything so any indoor intruders get ushered outside. Or, I secretly kill them and then pretend I am ushering them outside.
Glad I’m not the only one who’s had that exam room moment. We have a major spider problem at my hospital. Sometimes I can get them discretely, sometimes not so much.
I don’t know whether to be happy or worried, but my dog Vince treats spiders as tasty snacks