our pets

WARNING: If you have arachnophobia, don't read this post. If you don't have it, you might after reading this.

I am quite impressed with the range of animals that come and visit us regularly, considering the fact, that we live in a little beachside town and not in the forest.

There are the cute ones...

Possums came to visit us at night, sat on our deck (it was in our previous house), had fun. Often lying in bed in our bedroom we could hear their little steps running up on the roof,then sliding down on the other side and arriving on the deck with a thud. They were funny and adorable until they started to eat Dougal's herbs (they especially liked the basil) and overnight they turned into the most hated enemies.

We also have cute tiny lizards in the garden who enter the living room occasionally.

Then there are the beautiful ones...

Rainbow lorikeets, pink and grey galahs, cockatoos, kookaburras. There is a powerful owl living in one of the trees near our home who came (when I was still pregnant) and watched us when we were having dinner outside in the garden. He was big, looked very wise and calm.  We felt honoured that he came to visit us.

And there are the scary hairy ones...

Usually they sit on the wall close to the ceiling, are almost completely blind, harmless and big.

My first meeting with the huntsman was a very romantic one. It was one day after our wedding, when I noticed him, sitting comfortable on the air-conditioning mashine in our bedroom. With my scream I could have easily got the role in the shower scene in Psyco, I wanted to divorce and leave the country immediately. I kept repeating to myself that if Cate Blanchett and Princess Mary have been brought up here and they are still alive, I can do it too...

The next day I saw his son, a young one, outside on the window, we named them Istvan and Igor.

I am not saying that we have become soul mates since then, but I have seen so many I have stopped giving them names and my scream is not that loud any more.

Two days ago I was talking to a friend who lives in Europe about spiders, and I went to bed with this feeling that the next day is going to be the one. I hadn't met a huntsman for a couple of months, Dougal was away in Melbourne, the set up was perfect for it.

And there she was. Sitting in silence next to our front door on the wall. I had to ask the neighbour to save us and get rid of her. He took a kitchen towel and grabbed it. With his own hand. The brave man.

And then when I thought the danger had passed, I had entered Isabelle's room and there he was, in the corner, a young one, a kid, thinking that he'd got every right to move into a nursery.

He looked small and innocent, even cute, so I decided to leave him undisturbed until Dougal came home.

I have warned you, haven't I? x