My 16 year old son recently brought home a “pet” tarantula.
“Look mom, I bought a spider.”
Me: (Totally disgusted, but trying not to take the “shock value” bait.) “Oh cool, let me grab my camera.”
Click, Click, Click!
Me: “I hope it doesn’t bite you!”
Son: “It’s docile mom!”
Me: (Secretly googles the word docile) “Oh OK, well, I hope it doesn’t get loose.” (Desperately hoping it escapes from it’s jar. Oh,scratch that! I don’t want it loose in the house!!!)
A few days pass and son still hasn’t upgraded the spider’s living space to a larger atrium or box. He hasn’t even played with it, and now I’m starting to feel sorry for the thing. WTF is wrong with me?! I’m feeling sorry for a spider?
Oddly enough, I came across this pic of tarantula shoes. It’s supposed to be a live spider living in the sole. So, I’m going to tell my son today, that if he doesn’t start taking care of his “pet” then I’m donating it to the Fashion Industry. At least if it’s safely in a shoe like this, it will be able to get out a little bit and see the sights, see other creatures and feel a sense of purpose.