Hisfault

As regular readers may recall, I am not a huge fan of things with more than four legs. This can been read about in some of my priors encounters with Rolando and of course the famous cucaracha episode. So now that you are clear on this, it is time to discuss my bug loving wife and how that affects our relationship viz-a-viz spiders.

As spiders meet the more-than-four leg requirement above, they fall into the “keep them the hell away from me” category.

Maria Luisa, my bride of almost two years, does not have these issues. She thinks spiders are neat, and in fact all bugs are just wonderful. This, as you may imagine, sometimes brings conflict into our relationship. I prefer the “squash ‘em now” approach, while she would invite them to dinner and prepare something special. I am not permitted to hit them with a shoe or she has told me she will hit ME with a shoe. This applies even when we are visited by humongous tarantulas the size of a baseball glove. (Click to enlarge photos)

Those of you who are parents know the various shouts and screams of your own kids. Parents can almost always tell a whiney cry from the real deal. Same thing goes with Piro our dog. So last night while we were snuggled in bed watching TV, Piro goes “Woof”. Not multiple woofs, but just one. That is NOT good sign and we ran out into the hall. Piro was in her “pointer” mode used to tell us there is some weird stuff happening and we better deal with it or she will.

There, waiving his (her) little feelers at me was this big black (later to be determined as more brownish) tarantula about the size of a cell phone but with a lot more hair.

In my head, Harry Belefonte is singing “… very deadly black tarantula…” and I am going for the shoe.

“NO!” says the bug queen. “We must capture it!”. “Oh yeah,” says I, “Like the spider you captured last night in your bare hands? The one that bit you?”. “Si!” says she, “But be careful this one doesn’t bite you! It will hurt terribly!”.

Ummm. OK… thanks for that.

In a thrice I have returned from the kitchen with plastic container with top. “NO!” Screams she. “We put food in that!”

It is good to know that my bug crazy bride has some boundaries! She gives me that disgusted wife-look known by all husbands while thinking, I am sure, “Why did I marry so far down the food chain?”, and is off to the kitchen to bring back another plastic container that we apparently do not eat from.

It is now my job to coax this monster into the cup thingy. As you might imagine, the spider has his (her) own feelings about this process, and I learn two truly important things. First, Tarantulas can move a lot faster than they do on like Animal Planet and second, I can move a faster than I ever imagined on this planet.

However, I was fairly sure that despite my wife’s thinking I was in fact higher up the food chain than spider, I could capture this baby as charged! I surround it (yeah, right) and eventually get it into the container and placed the newly punctured top in place.

I decide to take a peek at the mother! I carefully lift the top and look in. Spidey does not move. I am not sure which end is which. Niether head nor tail!

Now the dumb part…Why I ever did what I did next, I’ll never know. Maybe she was right about the food chain thing. Anyway, I decide I want to KNOW which end is which, so I reach in and touch it with a pen tip. This time I learned three important things!

First, Tarantulas can jump, second, olde people can too, and third, if you make a paste of dry detergent and water, it is useful for removing many organic based stains from underwear.

Anyway, after recapturing the damned thing, we all go to bed (the tarantulas in his/her own room) and try to sleep.

Bright and early this morning, I take the thing out to a vacant lot (but conveniently next to a neighbor we do not particularly like ) and free this fellow. The Great White Hunter again conquers the jungles of Costa Rica!

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