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 |  a fun journal for breaking through writers block |
| If you could kill the pet of anybody you know, whose pet would it be? (Don't forget the reasons behind your decision!) *** *** *** This statement poses an interesting dilemna for me. For one, I tend to like the pet better than the person , especially when I get to know the person. I will definately rule out all warm blooded pets from the list of potential pets who could meet their demise at my hands. Therefore, cats, rats, dogs, ferrits, weasels, birds, horses, and hogs will be taken from the list. That leaves fish in tanks, a python named Monty, and a tarantula. Well, fish I will strike from the hit list because unless they are big enough to fry up for dinner I kind of enjoy watching them. Monty has a definate personality especially when he is hungry. So that leaves Gargan the tarantula. I abhor spiders of every kind and ilk and this tarantula is huge. I mean you really do not understand.... Gargan (short for Gargantuan) is H U G E!!! Since I don't really give a care if Ralph likes me or not, his pet would be the one I would accidently on purpose just happen to drop the thickest and heaviest edition of the Webster's Dictionary I could find on this eight legged critter. Mind you I don't dislike Ralph, it is just his pet creeps me out so that even just thinking about Gargan gives me a violent shiver right up my spine and my stomach tenses so tight I get queasy. I have this vision of how the accident would play out. "Oh hi Deb." Ralph smiles cheerily and we hug briefly as old friends will. "My, how long has it been?" "Hey, Ralph. Oh about three years now." (Ralph has forgotten about my arachniphobia and he is blinded by his own unconditional acceptance and familiarity of Gargan he doesn't realize the potential for disaster when he introduces me to his pet.) "Wow! That long? Gee, then you haven't met my best friend Gargan?" I play dumb. "Gargan?" "Oh you will love her. I got her just about three years ago. Come on I have her in a terrarium in the sun room." "Really? What is she a lizard of some kind?" Ralph looks at me and smiles. I smile back innocently, "What?" "Gargan is better than any lizard." Now Ralph's sun room also acts as a sitting room and has a modest collection of books on shelves along the inside wall. The encyclopedias are on the bottom shelf and he sports the Deluxe Unabridged Webster's Dictionary at the open end of the shelf by the door as a bookend. As we enter the room I hesitate just inside the door, the hairs on the back of my neck prickle and I have learned to mind this warning through my life. Then Ralph scratches his head as he peers into the terrarium and says under his breath, "Now I wonder how did that happened?" "How did what happen, Ralph?" Ralph looks around the room paying attention to shadowed places where crawly things like to hide. "Oh it seems the lid to the terrarium was left slightly ajar." "Really?" I say and look where Ralph looks. "Oh it isn't anything to worry about, Gargan likes to hunt but for the most part she is harmless." (Why is it people who own aggressive pets always tell the unwary friend the pet is HARMLESS!?) "The door was closed so she is still in here somewhere." At that point from the corner of my eye I see this kitten sized furry arachnid rapidly moving along the book shelf that happens to be at my eye level. I instantly let out a shriek, bend over and pick up the Deluxe Unabridged Webster's Dictionary and step back and away from this horrid creature. Gargan stops just for a breath and then discovers the door to the sun room is open and jumps from the shelf landing practically at my feet. Just as Ralph screams, "DON"T!!!!" I throw the twenty pound Deluxe Unabridged Webster's Dictionary right on the H U G E spider. Now I'm lifting my feet in a rapid two step away from this wicked foul creature and rubbing the imaginary sticky gooey threads from my arms and neck and crying hysterically. Ralph at this point is confused and torn between mourning his pet Gargan who is juicily squashed under the dictionary or consoling his very hysterically tearful use to be friend trying to escape through the front door of his house. "You killed her!" He cries out with such anguish I feel a twinge of guilt for what I just did. But I soon recover my wits and tell Ralph, "Man, I've never seen spiders that big, you need to get an exterminator in here like right now." Then I open the front door and run as quickly as my stubby 48 year old legs will go and make my escape vowing to write Ralph off on any form of visitation list I may have lying around somewhere. Well, that would be the pet I would consider killing. I think it will be another thirty years before I visit Ralph. The Discovery channel has programs that say Tarantulas can live up to 30 years. He got the thing three years ago and he has called and asked, "Why don't you write?" If he only knew. Take care and may your road lead to only good places. Deb For the soldiers in the line of fire, Keep your head down and your ass covered. Do what you must to come home.
Compassion and the effort to try and understand some thing that was not understood before is a step toward acceptance not only of others but most importantly of yourself.   ~~Image #6000 Sharing Restricted~~  |
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