Here there be nightmares...

Over the years, I've played mom, best friend, and nursemaid to a variety of critters both barnyard (chickens, ducks, rabbits, pigs), and household (dogs, cats, fish, birds). I was even the designated alternate caregiver for a white rat named Dweezil (with apologies to Mr. Zappa). But I drew my line in the sand when Elder Son showed up one evening with his best friend in tow. They were carrying a glass-covered terrarium and wearing suspiciously nervous grins.

"We're sharing a pet," said Elder Son. "He's really cute and furry and I won the coin toss, so I get to keep him this week. His name is..."

Unfortunately, I can't remember the creature's name. Maybe I've blocked the memory as too traumatic or maybe I just shrieked so loudly I drowned out Elder Son's voice.  As he spoke, he had reached into the terrarium, picked up the cute and furry new pet and turned, extending his hand in my direction. A hand almost completely covered by the hairy legs and pulsating body of a gigantic brown tarantula.

Now, spiders are not my favourite creatures but I try to maintain a live and let live philosophy. That is to say, live and let live BUT NOT IN MY HOUSE!  Coin toss or not, friend Gil was awarded spider-keeper status and Elder Son had to content himself with visiting rights.

Fast forward twenty-something years and Elder Son is now a parent himself. His family menagerie currently includes 2 cats, a dog, a chinchilla, a bearded dragon, and a White's tree frog. (And in recent memory a hedgehog, numerous fish, gerbils, and a guinea pig). So I had a good laugh when I read his recent Facebook update about my grandson: "Ty has decided to lobby for a snake...not just a corn snake either, a PYTHON. Note to self: never allow him to enter a pet store again."

What goes around comes around, son.  I'm just sayin'.