I took this Curly-Haired Tarantula off a boy I know who went on a mission. Acting on the suggestion of my sister, Claire, I named her Damascus. I was told that I didn't need to feed her until the end of April. They only eat once a month or so, apparently. So I didn't feed her, but problems arose whenever I attempted to take her out of the tank. She would whack me with her front legs whenever I stuck my hand in there. Partly offensive, partly freakin' scary. After a while, I gave up and accepted the fact that my spider was frigid and high-strung. But lo, miracles do happen. After I finally got around to feeding her, ol' Damascus was as chummy as can be, as evidenced by the picture. So, I guess everything turned out okay. Now if I could only get some real friends...
3 comments:
Whenever you put your hand in the tank it was like, "shit, where did these 8 hands come from? defense! attack!"
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA drew. i love your blog so so freaking much. im a real friend arent i? my doctor told me i was real. BLOG OF BRITTANY!
I don't know what's cooler, having a tarantula, or having a tarantula named Damascus.
Post a Comment