It is said that people learn fears. I didn’t believe that it was possible to catch fears, although it appears you can!
Anyone who knows me well or has read this blog for any length of time, will know that I suffer from a phobia of spiders.
I don’t know when this fear began. It was certainly many years before I started blogging in 2004. Incidentally, for those interested, my spider-related blogs stretch back 16 years!
I believe that I may have passed on my phobia, or at least some of it, onto Claire. Don’t get me wrong, my wife has never been a fan of creepy crawlies. Before leaving home to live with me, she would always call her dad, should she spot a ghastly, eight-legged creature.
Since we have lived together, all spider catching duties have been carried out by her. There is more chance of me entering and winning a marathon, than putting a glass over a house spider and sliding an old magazine underneath.
At the weekend, Claire had a close encounter with a spider. A little too close. She was cleaning out Roman’s cage. It was during this weekly chore that she let out a blood curdling scream of terror.
If Wes Craven is ever in need of a screamer for his next scary film, he need look no further than my wife.
I should be fair to Claire. If I was to have the same meeting with a spider as she did, I would have screamed too. Except mine would be louder and higher pitched.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes…
Claire let out a scream loud enough to awaken the dead. A horrible spider, with big, black, hairy legs was on her arm. As well as screeching, she flicked the creature off her body. Thankfully it missed me. It isn’t worth thinking about what would have happened had it landed on my lap!
I can fully sympathise with my wife’s reaction. During my early-teens, the same thing happened to me. I had just returned into the house from outside – coincidentally, after feeding my pet rabbit, Snowy. I felt something on my left hand, took a look, only to see one of those huge house spiders casually resting on me.
It showed absolutely no concern. Perfect proof, if it were needed, that we humans are more scared of spiders than they are of us.
Like Claire, I slapped the spider, sending it flying off my hand – not knowing or caring where it ended up. I am starting to wonder if this childhood experience is what triggered my arachnophobia.
As with my ordeal, Claire’s crawling tormentor also became lost and has not been seen since.
You may be interested to know that during my better hall’s moment of terror, our rabbit Roman was darting up and down his run in alarm. Once Claire’s screaming had ceased and the situation defused, Romy sat at the opposite side of his run, glaring at his human mummy, as if to say “how dare you make all that noise!”
This us rather cheeky by Roman. It is very likely that the spider that so viciously attacked my wife, had been residing in our bunny’s cage.
Roman clearly hadn’t read the lease agreement on his accommodation. If he did, he would have seen the section on keeping pets and livestock in his living quarters…
Section 15.2.1b
Not to keep any spider or other animal, arachnid or insect whatsoever in the premises that may cause a nuisance to your human parents or occupier of the other parts of the building.
Roman is a naughty boy. The nature of his punishment is yet to be confirmed.
Who would have thought it was possible for a pile of poop to be considered cute?
This offering from Roman, neatly deposited at the rear of his freshly cleaned litter tray, is pretty adorable.
This, by the way, is coming from a blogger so driven by hand hygiene, that he’ll rush home to scrub himself clean, at the mere sight of a dog defecating in the street.
This is one guilty looking bunny.
I am yet to discover the exact reason why Roman appears so sheepish, but it will no doubt become apparent soon.
Probably involving something important that he has nibbled – furniture, our floor, the foundations of the house…
Yesterday afternoon was not a fun one for Roman. It was his bi-annual trip to the vets. This visit would involve a routine vaccination against RHD2, a nail clipping and a general health check.
Unsurprisingly, Roman was not happy about attending and became rather frightened when his carry case emerged. As he only ever leaves the front room, let alone the house, to attend the vets, he knew something sinister was afoot.
Still, no matter how hard he tried to hide, Claire and my Dad managed to coax/force him into the travel case.
I do feel sorry for Roman, having to go somewhere he hates, but the potential alternative – suffering a slow and painful death – is not worth contemplating. Plus, his Daddy is forever in and out of hospital, proving that everyone has to do things they don’t like – including cute little bunny rabbits. This particular afternoon was Roman’s turn!
Claire told me that despite being scared during the journey, Roman was well behaved for the vet. He didn’t even flinch when receiving the injection and even tolerated his nails being clipped.
His health check revealed a clean bill and that he had put on a little weight over the past twelve months. Having felt Roman, I can testify that he is built like a brick shit house, and despite his small stature, is very strong.
Muscle is said to weigh more than fat, so his added girth is presumably from daily exercise, as opposed to THAT birthday cake!
Small print: Whether you are purchasing a new house, mobile phone contract or a cup of latte, there always seems to be small print. This blog post is no exception. This small print is to advise that the three photos used in the post were not taken on the day of the vet appointment. They were obtained four days before Roman’s visit to the vets and were simply used to make Sean’s Stories more interesting. Plus, he looks adorbs in them!
Look at this cutie.
Like butter wouldn’t melt…
Roman may have the face of an angel, but has behaved like a little demon!
He’s determined to destroy our front room table leg…