I don’t like spiders. I don’t know many people who do, but I REALLY don’t like them.
However, I’ve made peace with their presence here in the Dominican Republic. As long as they are big enough for me to keep an eye on, aren’t too active in their movements and pull their weight around the house (i.e. do their part to decimate the mosquito population), we can peacefully co-exist.
I consider this position to be incredibly adult given my gut instinct is to shriek like a little girl. And did I mention the spiders I’m referring to are cane spiders. The smallest I’ve seen are the size of my palm. The SMALLEST.
And I’m willing to co-exist with them. Pretty bad ass, right?
Yeah. Not so much, as it turns out.
Earlier this evening, I spotted one of these cane spiders. We’ll call him Boris. Because Boris is a good name for a spider, and for my own sanity, I like to think all spiders are male. I should think the reasoning behind that is self-evident. It’s cute that they call baby spiders ‘spiderlings’ and all, but there is no place in my world for them.
This Boris was a little more active than I would have liked. He also appeared to be holding something. That thought made me uncomfortable, but I wrote it off as poor lighting. Because seriously, who’s ever heard of a spider carrying anything.
I was willing to keep to my peace agreement, but Boris made a fatal mistake. Rather than staying put on the wall, he scurried down to floor level. Which is when Frederica pounced.
She’s my new hero. And yes, she will be getting extra treats.
After the brief flurry of activity was over, I noticed something on the floor. It was white and the size of a silver dollar only thicker, and sort of lumpy. With horror, I realized that Boris had really been a Bertha.
My first thought was to flush it as soon as I could, but Frederica was one step ahead of me.
I bent to give her a good scratch when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.
I bent down to the wall to take a better look. That’s when I lost my mind.
I don’t know how many baby spiders escaped. And, for my sanity, I can’t even allow my mind to contemplate how many were in that sack. Thank goodness for Frederica. Because what if they’d hatched while I was holding it…
Ok, Melissa. Breathe.
There was NO WAY I was letting those little Boris’ run around…growing to be the size of my hand…procreating…
I used the only thing I had on hand – Deep Woods Off. Much to my relief, it stopped them in their tracks.
And now, I’m going to brew myself a pot of strong Dominican coffee. Because, as I have no idea how many more Baby Boris’ are running around out there, there’s no chance I’ll be sleeping tonight.
Or anytime in the foreseeable future.
Maybe sometime in mid-2017.
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