WHEN CLIENTS ARE CONCERNED ABOUT WHETHER THEIR SERIously ill pets will ever regain their health, I want to tell them the tarantula story. But I usually don’t. Everyone connects to nature in different ways. I have to remember that not everyone likes spiders. I am one of those strange people who see Charlotte in every web.
Most people drop tarantulas—even if they are prepared to have the rose-colored toes tapping on their hand. They are excited by the prospect of holding the embodiment of dangerous and creepy, but then the creepy part strikes a reflexive cord in their psyche. The next thing that happens is the spider hits the ground. Small spiders can handle this, but not the tarantula, whose pendulous abdomen tears and breaks open upon impact.
A tarantula’s skin is papery and inelastic. When it rips, it needs to be put back together. Sewing papery spider skin together is an impossible task. The edges don’t close well and the mended skin does not withstand movement. Tissue glue and a steady hand are required. The first time I undertook this minuscule surgery, it was in the dark ages before tissue glue, so I used plain old superglue. But I have to admit, it worked well, and the spider owners were delighted with the results. Their pet spider—yes, named Charlotte—went on to have babies of her own.