I wonder whether or not the spider is still there, outside the village toilets on the grass. He had an unfortunate experience, suffering badly at my hand. Public conveniences must be cleaned, and I am that person in the gloves. I had thought to rescue, plucked him, wrapped in a cloth, from the toilet bowl. He had sat upon the water, I presumed in peril. So, as I say, I picked him out. He moved so fast I lost him from the cloth, and there he was, that sizable arachnid, by the wall, in full health, so it seemed. Again, my over zealous heart piped that he would be best abroad, outside in the undergrowth – we live in a pretty place, in the hills. I stooped again, with said cloth, and captured him for a second time. And in his haste and mine let go and flung him in the grass. But now the woe, for though released, he did not run, he did not move.
Stop, in fear my heart did stop. I had taken a life. Now, I do not claim any particular goodness. No, I feel anger at wasps and even some people. But spider had caused no upset, and I had behaved in error.
I hung about, with no more work to do. I would wait a while and then go back, back to the spot where he sat, legs curled up, half the beast he had been before, before I killed him.
And then something else – his eight legs straightened. His still corpse (perhaps half an hour had passed) began to live again. Though still remorseful, I was overjoyed. I inquired as to his health, in humblest tones, then backed off, fearing my own ability to clumsily tread. With many backward look, best walk away.
One more thing. Spider said this to me. You need to slow your pace. You need not think so hard. You need to be still, take time to recover. Do not respond to everyone’s emergencies (periodically, turn off your phone). And if you can do this, you will be well. If you can do this, you will not die so soon.