Death by spider is definitely not on my list of preferred ways to exit this world and chances are pretty slim, I hope, it would ever go down this way. Except, I’ve seen a lot of spiders in my yard lately, spinning crazy webs like the one above, which of course gets me thinking.
What if that old wives’ tales about spider eggs laid inside the cheek are true and not only do a gazillion little baby spiders hatch in my mouth, but I choke on them and die? That is if I don’t keel over from the sheer horror of having gobs of spiders pour out of my mouth first. I think BuzzFeed ran a story about a girl his happened to, so of course it could happen to me too, right?
Or perhaps not. It’s far more likely that my required payment for buying the proverbial farm will be by shark rather than spider. I’m an avid snorkeler you see and am often found flopping about in mask and fins at the marine preserve near me. God sure does provide a nod to creativity with His sea creatures and I have yet to end a snorkel session feeling anything less than astounded by their sheer beauty.
Without fail though, a moment will arise when I become very aware of my complete and utter lack of defense should I happen upon a shark. Logical thought then takes flight and I’m soon convinced that this will be the one in a million time where a Great White enters the preserve and promptly has me for lunch.
A playful sea lion recently took full advantage of one such moment, by swimming just below me while waving (purposely taunting I’m convinced) his fin. Have you ever screamed SHARK while breathing through a snorkel underwater? Let me tell you the resulting backwash of saltwater gushing down your windpipe is no pleasant thing, nor realizing that awful and pathetic, garbled choking sound is coming from you.
Of course I hightailed it back to dry land, shamelessly pushing small children aside as I made my way to safety and then promptly retelling my “shark tale” to anyone nearby. Funny that the sea lion got bigger and myself braver with each telling.
Truth be told, were I to meet an untimely demise, I’m convinced my cat will be responsible. He purposefully darts in front of me when I’m either walking down cement steps, or as I’m heading up my brick walkway with arms full of packages I’m bringing in from the car.
“Kitty” came upon my doorstep 7 years ago, homeless, hungry and infested with fleas. I begrudgingly took him in and have since spent a small fortune on medicine, food, vet visits, toys he ignores and pet sitters. I opened my heart, home and wallet for him and in return he tries to crack my skull open. I’m told that’s just how cats are.
Oh sure, sometimes he is very loving, but always on his terms and only when he feels like it. He is manipulative and emotionally abusive, I know, but my co dependent need to feel wanted keeps me around. Plus I love him to pieces now.
Of course it’s a pointless task to ponder one’s grand exit from life. As the saying goes, no one leaves this earth alive and to worry about how or when it will happen brings no good. This sign I have hanging in my garden reminds me to “enjoy the little things.”. Yes, take comfort and joy in the present moment, the people and things around you now, there’s much value there. Just beware of the cat.