This week, we had our first huntsman in the house. He wasn't very large at all, measuring less than 2cm with his legs all spread out, and was relatively docile. He hid when we entered the bathroom and panicked if we came anywhere near his clever hiding spot under the crown molding.
We weren't going to keep him and Wes was annoyed that I hadn't killed him on sight (for starters, I couldn't reach him on the ceiling and I also had no idea that we had spray in the house; plus, he was so TINY!). It was not I, however, who named him.
When I first encountered the little spider, Wes was at work. I messaged him over Gmail chat to let him know that we had our first huntsman inside (he'd been warning it would happen). He immediately demanded photographic proof of its size. When I provided the above image, he then demanded to know why it was still alive. A discussion arose on Facebook in which he had many supporters rallying to his side, telling me to destroy the little critter immediately.
The most popular vote was death by flame.
After seeing the tiny arachnid in person, Wes had a change of heart and decided to let him stay, so long as he stayed small. He would not be a pet, Wes warned, and would receive no name!
Spiders are not to be trusted. They can pop up anywhere and scare the shit out of you at any moment.
Huntsmen are harmless, hairy buggers, but scary! No spiders for pets!
Little did he know how charming spiders can be.
Last night, as I lay on the couch in the throes of a headache from hell (the weather change and a few other factors brought on a nasty one), Wes scampered up the stairs. When I asked where he was off to in such a hurry, he said he was going to check on Squirt.
"Squirt?" I said "Who's Squirt?"
"The spider!" he said, sounding exasperated, then, "Yes. I know. I said we wouldn't name it ..."
I just laughed and not long after went to bed.
The next morning, when I woke up and rolled over, Wes looked at me with a very serious expression and sighed. Fearing the worst (or at least something awful), I asked him what was wrong.
"Squirt crossed the line, last night, and broke the treaty," he said. When I inquired what that meant, he explained that he thought Squirt had had babies. When I laughed and said Squirt was too small for that, he admitted that he'd found that out quickly enough--upon killing Squirt, the real mother of the babies he'd found came out of the bathroom's windowsill--a bit, nasty black creature with a deformed looking abdomen and scary, stubby legs.
He killed her, too.
We have no idea what kind of spider she was, but now she, her babies and poor little Squirt all have shared the same fate.
And this is why you don't keep spiders for pets.
