The Pet Lady


In answer to the person whose dog helps empty the cat box [The Pet Lady, May 30], our solution was to put the cat box in the bathtub. The cat can get to it. The dog can’t. End of problem, except for washing out the bathtub every time you want to take a bath!

Dogs are such animals!



Oh. The. Horror.

As the Pet Lady dimly recalls, the dog to whom you refer assisted the human in emptying the litter box in question in such a vile, vile manner that the P.L. suffered perhaps the worst case of the vapors ever and now has short-term memory loss (permanent, it is to be hoped). Now you, sweet Mary, cause a revisitation of this dreadful, dreadful torment, and in addition you suggest placing the feline’s waste receptacle in the very vessel where the sanctity of human bathing occurs!

The Pet Lady must abandon this issue entirely and have a martini. Luckily, the wake for Crawly, the Pet Secretary’s recently deceased pet tarantula, is in full swing here at the offices of Seattle Weekly. Herewith, Crawly’s obituary, and best to you and your terrible, terrible tub, dear Mary.

The Pet Lady


Crawly, a Honduran curly hair tarantula who ate live crickets with alacrity and lived in a glass tank, died at some indeterminate time in the first two weeks of June. She (it is presumed she was a female because of her large size) was age 3.

Crawly was ordered via the Internet and traveled as a very small, young spider by way of regular U.S. Postal Service wrapped in a damp paper towel in a little plastic film canister. Crawly’s cost, including her tank, was minimal: $19.99.

Later Crawly grew rather large. Crawly’s body and legs were covered with sable-colored velvet; in addition, on her carapace were sparse, bright orange hairs. She also possessed scary, scary fangs.

Crawly never balked when brought out in the wee hours to amuse and/or terrify inebriated visitors and never seemed to mind that these times were, in fact, the only times she was ever handled.

Crawly was known to climb her walls of sheer glass and stand there doing tiny spider push-ups in tune with bass-heavy music. Crawly also taught a 4-year-old girl dressed entirely in pink that spiders are not “icky” but actually quite neutral.

Crawly was blessed at the age of 2 in a local church [as commemorated in The Pet Lady, Oct. 18, 2001], although Crawly herself never espoused any particular denominational beliefs.

Crawly appeared so much the same in life as in death that her passing went unnoticed for a period of some days. While she did not live to typical tarantular life expectancy and the cause of her demise is unknown, no autopsy will be performed. She is survived by the Pet Secretary and the Pet Secretary’s housemate, who remarked of Crawly, “We can always get another one.” In lieu of flowers, libations may be sent care of this newspaper.

Pet possibly dead? Other pet problem? Send photos and letters to The Pet Lady, c/o Seattle Weekly, 1008 Western, Ste. 300, Seattle, WA 98104, or e-mail