Karla's Kolumn: I hate spiders

I hate spiders. Yes, I know hate is a strong word but it fits. I really do hate spiders.

Yes, I know they can be beneficial. I hear it from my husband all the time. My reply to him. They aren’t beneficial in my house. But for him I try and give the spiders a fighting chance. When I see a spider I tell them to get out of the house. I give them about the time it takes for me to squish them. If they want to survive, they have to move quickly. It’s not my fault the spiders don’t heed my warnings.

Having lived alone prior to getting married I have had to kill plenty of spiders. I still have to kill all the spiders because since my husband thinks they are beneficial he won’t kill them. He likes to catch them in the house and turn them loose outside.

There’s a major flaw in that plan. What happens if the spider escapes. Then no one knows where the spider is and he or she is left to plan revenge on having been kidnapped and nearly thrown out of the home he knew.

If you stomp on the spider, you don’t have to worry. No I don’t worry about his relatives, I figure the spider’s death sends a message — don’t mess with me. Stay out of my house.

Now my hatred/fear of spiders probably doesn’t reach the level of full arachnophobia but it’s close.

Living in the country my fear of them has subsided, but not my hatred.

I really, really don’t like spiders and about two weeks ago I head to the outside faucet to turn on the water to the garden and what do I see … a black widow hanging on a her spider web near the faucet.

At first I freak out because, well, it’s a spider. I then realize I am seeing my first black widow – you can’t mistake them with their red hourglass mark on the back.

Well I take a photo and send to my husband – because he was out of town. I wanted to make sure that’s what it was. I also Googled it. Yup, no mistaking.

OK. Black widows are venomous and must die. Black widows are spiders and must die. My conclusion. The eight-legged creature must die.

How? Well, I was not about to use my foot. If my aim wasn’t true and my foot missed and she jumped or moved I’d be wondering if she was running up my leg and then I’d end up jumping up and down with arms flailing trying to get the spider off of me, not even knowing for sure if she was there. (I’m guessing that’s how the Macarena was first invented and they just slowed it down for the music.)

I need a long, flat object. I found a piece of wood that Shadow had brought to the step hoping to bring inside the house.

I took careful aim. I eased closer. WHACK. She was squished all over the foundation. A sense of satisfaction and relief came over me.

I then took aim with some insecticide and sprayed the area where her web was, some of her little spiderlings came out and they died too. Further satisfaction.

Life is good. The spiders are dead. That weekend the entire foundation around our house was sprayed – just like my dad used to do around our home when I was growing up, for which I am forever thankful to him.

After this episode I posted that I wasn’t sure after rats two years ago, my dog getting sprayed twice this summer by a skunk and now black widows I wasn’t sure the country life was for me.

However, the country life has been good for me. I’m learning to be prepared for anything and I’m facing my fears head on.

The dogs and I got good at finding and killing the rats and now I’ve found my rhythm and I’m well-armed for any spider who may try and invade my home.

Now the skunks, well I’m prepared with home remedies and store-bought de-skunk shampoo because I don’t think my dog will learn.