This is my tarantula story, with no pictures. But this happened in my house in town (city limits). Within the last year.
I swore I would never admit that a tarantula was inside of my house. After all, how could that even happen? But I feel it is time to come clean. Honesty is always the best policy.
One morning this past spring, I am getting ready for the day. My bathroom, bedroom and closet are at the far end of the house. They are not near a door or entrance. I look in the mirror, and behind me, on the tiffany blue wall, there is a tarantula. It is the size of my hand. It is about 4 feet up on the wall -- just clinging there. I am the only one home, but I scream anyway. I keep my eye on it, and grab my phone, while climbing up on the bathroom counter. From eight feet away, I call Chief on the phone. He doesn't answer. I leave a desperate message. I sit still on the counter. I will not leave without one eye on this arachnid. It feels like 30 minutes. When he calls back, I beg of him, "I have never asked you to do this before, but I need you to come to town and deal with this tarantula in our bathroom." He hears the fear and anxiety in my voice, and he says he is on his way. I say, "THANK YOU!!!!!"
I remain on the counter, eyes glued to the tarantula on the wall. The phone rings. It is my friend, Mel. I tell her I really can't talk, I am dealing with an unusual emergency. When I tell her what is going on, she says, "a tarantula? I love tarantulas! Do you want me to come get it?" I scream into the phone, "YES!" And she is on her way. When she arrives, she is carrying a canning jar and a flyswatter. She strolls in, takes the flyswatter, gently encourages the tarantula into the jar like a turtle, and puts the lid on it. I stare in awe. I say, "what are you going to do with it?" She says she will take it home and let it go.
Okay, fine, bub-bye, talk to you later.
Okay, fine, bub-bye, talk to you later.
I have no idea how a tarantula could get into the house. I mean, it's not like our doors stand wide open. We don't open our windows and leave them unattended. The best I can tell is that Chief brought in a pile of undesirable farm clothes, and this fellow was hidden amongst them. We don't really have mice -- it's because I let those nice snakes live and inhabit my yard and neighborhood. But there is no explanation for a tarantula sneaking into the house. It's not like a mouse that can squeeze under a door or through a small hole. A tarantula is large and hairy. My guess is that they aren't very limber. And my theory on how the tarantula got into the house is that Chief, being the considerate guy that he is, brought in a pile of clothes and boots from working cattle earlier that week, and he laid them in the garage for a few days. If you don't know what "working cattle" is, there is a lot of stinky stuff involved. Then he carried them into the laundry room to be washed separately from everything else. Yes, it's that bad.
Then just this week, I have killed two scorpions. Inside the house. Throughout the past year, probably seven.
Call me tough. Call me an idiot. I am afraid varmints are everywhere. But they are not the boss of me. And they usually don't win.
