17 October 05

Dawg – Xena’s Pet Tarantula

I was invited to see Dawg in his makeshift home – half a cardboard box strewn with dirt and pieces of dead insects. The brownish-black spider looked like an arachnophobe’s worst nightmare. From Dawg’s bulbous body, eight hairy legs extended almost as wide as my hand.

Xena coaxed Dawg into his hand.
“Here, let me put Dawg on your arm” Xena said.
“But he has fangs – big ones!” I said.
“Dawggy won’t bite you. Don’t be scared.”
“Unlike you, Xena, I try to keep spiders and scorpions at a safe distance.”
“Dawg’s very docile. He’s beautiful. He’s always pleasant, and great to play with. I wash him, and give him baths. I’ve put his fangs on my skin, and pushed his head down. He wouldn’t bite me. I wanted to see what being bitten felt like, but the little fucker wouldn’t do it.”
“Knowing my luck, I’ll be the first person he bites.”
“Don’t be such a chicken-ass Limey! Just sit there and let me put him on your hand.”
"OK."
Xena manipulated Dawg onto my left wrist. His gentle feet tickled my skin. My fear confronted, I felt at ease. I enjoyed the sensation of Dawg moving up my arm.
“What do you feed him?”
“Crickets. I keep him stuffed, so he won’t want to make a meal out of me.”
“What else do they eat?”
“Other tarantulas.”
“Other tarantulas? How does that work?”
“It’s mostly females eatin’ males. During matin’ season a horny male will go lookin’ for female burrows. He’s like, hey, this smells like a female’s place, and then, it like, cruises in, and plucks the web, like he’s invitin’ himself to dinner, and he’s the meal. She runs out to eat him, and he tries to put her in a trance. He runs under her, and using hooks on his legs, he holds her fangs back, so she can’t chomp down on him. Then he sticks his little pitter-patter – it’s called a pedipalp – into her vag, and injects his semen."
I gasped at Xena's knowledge of tarantula mating habits.
"Next is the tricky bit: he has to let go of her. By this time she’s hungry and pissed off. This is when he wishes he was a fag for sure, 'cause if he don’t get away, he gets eaten. Sometimes they try so hard to get away that the pitter-patter breaks off, and is left up inside her vag.”
“Wow! That’s amazing.”
“I’d be a homosexual if I was a tarantula. Hey, I am a homosexual!”
“Dawg feels cool, but you’d better get him off me before he crawls on my head.”
“Alright.”
“Thanks Xena. I’m glad you talked me into letting Dawg crawl on me. I’m not afraid of tarantulas anymore. We love tarantulas!”
"We do love tarantulas!"

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Copyright © 2004-2005 Shaun P. Attwood