Itsy Bitsy Fritsy 2: Für Ursel
I’ve been thinking about one of the comments on yesterday’s post. (Not one of the comments about murder. That’s just silly. This is clearly a “kill or be killed” situation. Totally justified. Not murder.)
I ask myself: is my goal overly ambitious? Impossible? I don’t think so. I have some ideas. You’ll see.
And, okay, maybe I do feel compelled to defend myself with a, “why not?” The man doesn’t hesitate to kill my people. Repeatedly and with no remorse. Just squeamishness. (And there’s that cat of his. The horrid, awful cat.) In his short time here, The man has revealed himself to be a speciesist criminal.
Come on, everyone says, that’s just the way it is. Humans squish spiders. They ask if I’ve apologized to any of my meals’ families lately. But that’s stupid. We have to eat. The man doesn’t have to squish us.
(And if it helps: I’m sorry, family of the silverfish I caught in my web today.)
I think it amuses the others to tease me and ask dumb questions, since they think I’m acting flybrained. But they’ll see. I’ve spun myself into a pleasingly dense web of self-righteous fury, having long dwelt on the many injustices I’ve witnessed.
Several months ago we lost Ursel. Dear, sweet Ursel. She was going for the living room window. (How bitterly ironic. The living room.) The man appeared out of nowhere and spotted her. She started to run. He called the cat. Ursel made a dash for the couch, but it was too late.
I saw it. The whole ghastly episode.
It was then I knew I would do something. For Ursel, and all the others before her. And recently there appeared this wonderful opportunity to write about it, as an inspiration to all of spiderdom.
Tomorrow: The plan!