At 23.00 last night, my cat Morty alerted me to the presence of (another) giant spider lurking on my wall just above the entrance to my bathroom. How she made the announcement was by crying like a child, and stretching herself up the wall to try get nearer to it – conflicting responses, I concede, but the brain of a cat is not for me to know.
I thus decided to move sleeping quarters for the night. I gathered up my duvet, pillow, laptop, phone and book, and attempted to tip-toe past the spider with all this gear in order to get to the other bedroom.
The spider then fell directly onto my head, causing me to scream, drop and smash the laptop and phone, jump around and crush Morty to death.
Ok, ya, the truth is that latter series of events did not take place in reality … just in my frozen mind as I sat contemplating for a full 10 minutes, how I would move past the arachnid and what I would do to avoid getting spider hair.
After installing myself in my second bedroom and finally getting comfortable, I switched off the light and was promptly jolted away from delicious semi-consciousness upon hearing my cat furiously launching herself down the passage and against my door. She’d managed to bring the spider to my door and sat poking it with her left paw for her/my enjoyment.
Once I was fairly sure it was dead, I retreated back to my regular sleep quarters, as Morty purred and congratulated herself heartily for disposing of this eight-legged creature that is about a 100th of my size.
That’s why cats are better than I am.