Jun. 22nd, 2011

tilly_stratford: (Cat: relaxed)
Lately there's been an overabundance of spiders in my room.

Of course, usually I regard one spider as an overabundance, but when I come over another spider every few days I guess I need to recalibrate. Four years of living on my own has made me a bit braver when it comes to spider hunting but they still make my skin crawl beyond words.

But apparently there's an odd kind of arthropod-related insanity that comes with owning a cat.

Like last night when a particularly nasty spider - the kind that seems to have way too many joints in each leg - crawled over my foot. I recoiled, reached out to grab a magazine to squash it with, but then I reconsidered. I shouted for Linni who was sleeping in the kitchen, and to my great delight she came running (I was so proud of the fact that she responds to her name - then today I experimented by shouting "Yogurt! Yogurt!" in the same tone of voice and she still came running. Oh well.)

I tapped my fingers on the floor to get her attention, and then I flicked at the spider to send it running. I deliberately touched a spider, okay. That was when I realized that owning a cat seems to have altered me in some fundamental way. But at least Linni got five minutes' entertainment out of it - though I kept my eye peeled to ensure she didn't lose track of it. She's not exactly the Great Calico Hunter.

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