It's finally come to the time where I myself need to immortalize a beloved friend. My heart goes out to anyone else who has had a recently deceased pet—it's hard. And it's times like these when it's clear that memento mori are still frowned upon, especially in the traditional sense of a traditional pet world. There are endless venues for cat or dog memorials, but I am here to tell you that my pet tarantula passed away and, yes, we can have emotional connections to such small, humble souls. No matter the pet, they mattered—to you and and to me! It's amazing the connections we can have if we have taken the time to make them. The feelings are valid because of that time. And just because they aren't conventional beings it doesn't make it any less meaningful. So here's to my unconventional friends; this is Sable.
She was my first tarantula and she died unexpectedly while I was out of town. It is the worst way possible to lose a friend. Where do I even begin to tell her story? She was a babe blue spiderling when we first met. I had wanted a tarantula ever since I was nine (the ultra-embarrassing backstory: it was from watching Jungle 2 Jungle as a child and seeing that beautiful Red-knee Tarantula on screen). Although I must admit that I also have a fear of spiders: but living in fear is probably the worst thing you can do for yourself. The more we grow older the more fears we wrack under our belt. It just seems to be the weird nature of adulting. Our conquering souls, fearing nothing, challenging the kid off the top of the jungle gym get replaced with worrying about how can we pay our bills. Sable helped me to cross off one of those fears and get me back to reality. Maybe I am romanticizing a bit here, but I truly believe we understood one another.
I got over zealous the day that I got her and moved her into her new home I had made for her... and that was the first time I held her (not intentionally!). She crawled to my hand instead of the cozy new home. I froze. My instinct of flicking my hand surprisingly did not trigger. And I wonder now, was that the unconscious moment (of 'hey girl, we friends now or what?') where we were connected forever? I had no idea what I was doing as a tarantula mom, but she seemed to show me in her mannerisms what to do. It was a beautiful friendship.
Pet preservation isn't just something I do for fun; I do truly take it very seriously and personally. Preserving a pet tarantula, articulating a cat or a rat, it is all the same to me—an extension of that person, our best friend: a connection that will be memorialized forever.
It means the world to be to be able to do the job that I do for you. These interactions we have everyday aren't just mere conversations. The simplest of time spent connects us in a way, no matter how small. So, treat each second as an important, inspiring moment. Because you too matter to someone much bigger or smaller than yourself.