Some Spiders Have 4 Legs

I don’t remember a whole lot about my birth parents. I just know that the man that adopted me was related to the homeowner of the place where we all lived. He took me home and that’s where I met my mom. Her name is Kat and she and my Dad, Jason, were going to adopt me.

My new home came with siblings. I now had a much older sister named Vita, whom everyone called “Veeder” for some reason. She was absolutely breathtakingly beautiful. Pure white from ear to paw. So white that her bright pink natural skin seemed to glow off of her almost translucent fur. She had bright green eyes that saw straight through to your soul. I was told this was rare for the albinos who usually have blue eyes.

I also had an older brother. Ruff (who everyone called “Bubbers” for some reason). Right away, not only did I notice that he was different than me, but at the same time, we formed an unmistakable bond that baffled my whole family. Anywhere Ruff went, I followed and learned. My mom likes to joke around and tell people I am1/3 cat, 1/3 human, and 1/3 dog because a lot of the things I learned young in life came from Ruff.

I did not have a name right away, so I did not have a nickname yet, either. (My understanding is that it is a great honor to have earned a nickname in this family). I overheard Mom telling Dad that my name would come when I was ready to give it. I don’t know what that meant, because I never told them to call me anything. I just went about my business until one day I was playing with them. I hid behind the sofa in the shadows and waited for Dad to walk by barefooted. I swiped my paw out and tagged his foot with my claw. Dad jumped, so I jumped and ran back further into the shadows. That’s when Mom started laughing and said, “lurking in the shadows… just like a spider.” I was forever known as Spider since that day.

Things were great at first. Then I started developing these “feelings”. Mom called them hormones. I didn’t fully understand what was happening to me and I started to behave badly. Mom and Dad argued about me getting my problem “fixed”. I didn’t understand why I needed to see an Army guy (a “Vet” she called him) and get tutored, though. Was I going to learn something about my problem getting fixed??

Mom and Dad began to fight a lot. I was still having these uncontrollable violent-like urges to grab Veeder by the neck and do… I don’t even know what I was to do because I always got yelled at before I could figure it out.

Then one day, after Dad got real mean with Mom, suddenly he was just gone. I don’t know where he went and my violent outbursts were still out of control. Mom told a friend on the phone that I belonged to Dad and since I couldn’t stop attacking Veeder, I was going to the pound. I didn’t know what a pound was but it sounded scary.

Then Mom got hurt at work and was using these big giant metal bars to walk around with so she couldn’t take me to this pound place. She was in a lot of pain and moved very slowly. And while it brought me no pleasure to see her in pain, I was grateful because it delayed my trip to the pound. I still don’t know why my Dad never came to get me. He lived in a city called Jail. How far away could that possibly be?

One day we were all hanging out in the living room. I was behind the couch. Ruff was napping on the couch. Veeder was sunning in the window and Mom was playing on the computer with her bad leg resting on a stool. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed an intruder entering the house. I don’t know how he got in but he came through under the door of the living room closet. Had he been there all along?

He was an ugly intruder. He had these horrible eyes that just snarled like he was up to no good. He was black with wiry hair all over his body. He did have 8 legs, though, which I think is cool, but not with all that ugly wiry hair everywhere.

He crept about six inches into the living room and froze when he realized just how many of us there were. Mom must have seen him, too because she turned her head to look at him. So he turned his whole body to look at her. He and Mom just stared at each other and I saw something in Mom that I had never seen before… fear. Instinctively, I knew I had to protect her.

Mom couldn’t do anything with that bad leg of hers. (Why humans only have two legs, I’ll never understand.) Suddenly, the intruder began sprinting towards mom in attack mode. I wasted no time. I jumped to the back of the couch, down along the alarm and flung myself as hard as I could, and landed on the ground directly between Mom and the intruder.

The intruder froze. I dared him to keep coming at my Mom, but he turned and fled. He retreated back into that closet as I chased him. Mom sprayed the whole closet with some awful smelly stuff that no living creature would ever survive, let alone a tiny 8 legged intruder.

That’s when Mom grabbed me and hugged me. She told me she loved me and was sorry she ever thought about giving me away. She told me she was keeping me forever and my Dad could go to another city. Hell, I think she called it. Mom did insist, though, that we go see that Army Vet guy and let him tutor me. I still don’t know what it was I was supposed to learn from that guy. I just know that he “fixed” me because Mom told all her friends “I got him fixed.”

Mom officially adopted me and I got a shiny new tag for my collar to prove it. I wore it proudly right alongside the one I got for the ray-beams needle the Army guy poked me with. (Still don’t know what I deserved to get that painful crap, but all us kids got one.)

So, that’s my story. I was officially named Spider, and finally given an official nickname, a rite of passage within my family. Thanks for reading my tale. Love, “Pider”.