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Good morning oikos mou

October 22, 2009

Noting no correlation between spider consumption and bigness...

Noting no correlation between spider consumption and obesity...


My Cat, a direct attitudinal descendent of Orion and Nimrod, slew a spider last night between 3 and 4 AM. How do we know this? I have to admit our epistemology is based on pretty raw sensory data. We heard him munching something near our bed after jumping up onto the bed and down again twice, the second time mistaking my tenuously located scapula for a launching pad with the full force of whatever foot tonnage his 18 pounds musters. He has a munching sound specific to spiders, mayflies, and moths: he chews with his mouth open and emits a sound like “nyar nyar nyar nyar.” But before snagging mayflies and moths, the Cat makes a little batlike chirping sound. For some reason, the Cat does not chirp in anticipation of nailing a spider, probably because it isn’t airborne. In any case, his pride obliges him to leave dispositive evidence behind when he captures a spider. He never eats all the legs. And judging from the four black jointed legs he left on the floor next to the bed, last night’s kill was a trophy spider.

Once we were up, I made much of the Cat for rescuing us from the alarming arachnid. He kneaded my lap in self-infatuation and returned to the crime scene, where he now had the bed all to himself.

But there was something terribly wrong, and the terribly wrong thing was on the dining room floor, and that thing was the late spider’s evil twin, huge and terrible on the dining room floor. I called to the Cat, who looked very alert, but who was too fat and happy to bother. Noting my rigid spider-in-the-room stance against the wall, my husband dispatched the spider, which ended its world tour in the sewer system with a summary flush, and has no doubt by now contributed its atoms to an EPA Superfund site. Ecology has nothing to do with my dining room floor.

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One Comment
  1. October 22, 2009 5:47 pm

    I laughed, I gasped, I drew my knees up on my chair in horror.

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