September has brought an onslaught of Barn Funnel Weaver spiders to the old homestead. One has created a comfortable domicile in the (non-used, exterior) door to the office. I get to watch him scurry about all day, content that he cannot get inside the house (I have never sealed up a door so well!). Another had moved into the handle of my back door’s screen door. No, I never want to use that door again, but unfortunately that is Pistachio’s portal to the exciting World of Squirrels, so accommodations must be made.
But the worst offender is the arachnid that decided my hiking boots on the front porch are the perfect nesting area. One boot is so encased in webbing that you can’t tell what color it is. Note that the industrious little sucker completely enwebbed (yes I made that word up) my boot in fewer than 12 hours. I have decided to sacrifice the boot for the greater good. Actually, I am just afraid that if I take away his play toy, Mr. Arachnid will throw a temper tantrum and decide to enshroud me in webbing one night while I sleep. (Did you just involuntarily shudder as well?)
Of course, if these guys do manage to get inside the house, the cats are notorious for finding them and ripping off their legs, one by one. Yeah, I know. The cats’ danse macabre is quite the juxtaposition for Pistachio’s oh-so-Mayberryesque wholesome goodness.