"Precious" Lessons

By Peggy River Singer

When I split from my ex in the late 1980's, I didn't take the toaster or the television with me. Instead, I got custody of the tarantula.

Let me explain.

The Christmas gift my ex wanted one year was a Red-kneed Tarantula, which he named Precious. Predictably, he quickly lost interest. So, I became the reluctant guardian of a chipmunk-sized spider that scared me so much I couldn't even touch it.

Now, to really appreciate this story, you need to know that I have been a full-blown arachnophobe all my life. Everywhere I went, legions of spiders were hanging around. In my imagination, they were waiting to jump on me and scare me to death. Therefore, the tank Precious inhabited had a very sturdy LOCKING screen top, which was a non-negotiable condition of allowing a huge spider into our home. 

Time passed, and I did my best to give Precious a good life. I found that her size helped me to accept her as an animal, not a monster. That was the first breakthrough; more would follow.

Two years later, I figured out that Precious was not a healthy young female, as the pet store had told us. Instead, my pet was an elderly male, and his health was failing. Every day I found more body hairs scattered on the sand in the tank – a sign of illness and distress. Precious became old before my eyes; his abdomen shrank and wrinkled like a prune.

I faced a new dilemma: how do you euthanize a tarantula? There was no Google back then, so I made quite a few calls, including the Toledo and Detroit Zoos and the Insects Division at the U of M Natural History Museum. A few people were sympathetic but didn't have any solid ideas; others made ghastly suggestions they thought were funny.

Finally, I recalled how we had euthanized spiders and other critters for a class in Invertebrate Biology I had taken at Eastern Michigan University. I filled a mayonnaise jar with rubbing alcohol, tipped Precious into the jar (still without touching him) and sealed the lid. I couldn't watch, even though I had been assured that he would essentially get drunk on the alcohol and pass out painlessly. I felt devastated; I sobbed.

Looking back today, I can appreciate that Precious was careful to avoid doing anything I might interpret as threatening when I was feeding him or cleaning the tank. He never approached my hand, and moved slowly whenever the tank was open. I believe this was intentional on his part, and that he was gradually helping me to build my confidence - and even my trust – in his goodwill.

These days, I still feel traces of the ancient fears that I share with so many humans; but I also love and appreciate spiders for their beauty, creativity, and wisdom as well as their place in the natural world. Now I understand that all those spiders around me have always been doing their best to protect me from harm, especially during a very difficult childhood. Precious, himself, was undoubtedly my courageous protector during the time I spent with an unbalanced and dangerous partner. His goal has finally been achieved: The scary fiends of my childhood have become neighbors, mentors, and spirit guides.

I learned a lot from that brief marriage; but the most unforgettable memories and lessons came from a Red-Kneed Tarantula who is still with me in spirit.

Peggy River Singer is a Lightworker, all-beings communicator, faerie ally, Reiki practitioner, and lifelong writer who combines her gifts to help create harmonious relationships among all who share the Earth. Connect by email at newbluecanoe@aol.com. Previous columns, interviews, and articles about her experiences and insights are posted on angelsfairiesandlife.wordpress.com.

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