I rehomed a wolf spider yesterday but I missed her this morning. She’s been getting herself trapped in the bathtub every day for almost a week. 

Every morning, before my shower, I rescued her and put her on the bathroom floor so she could find a good spot to build her web, safe while the bathroom door is closed. My house is a dangerous place for spiders. I have two cats and three dogs, and four of those five creatures like to eat spiders. 

My kitchen already supports two wolf spiders – Jane and Elizabeth. They catch the flies that occasionally get in when the dogs leave the screen ‘door’ open. It’s a hanging screen, split down the middle, that closes with magnets. Sometimes the dogs push through the screen too enthusiastically and the magnets attach themselves to the door latch. It’s like a big, flashing WELCOME sign to all the neighborhood flies. 

Jane and Elizabeth are very efficient and enthusiastic housekeepers. Sometimes I have to explain them. People think cobwebs mean I don’t clean my house (it’s definitely not my strongest skill but I do clean … occasionally). I like to think that the cobwebs are a sign that I support the broader community of beings who live in my house – except flies and mosquitoes. I am an unwilling fly and mosquito landlord. 

When I first discovered Lydia in the tub, I had already turned on the shower. She was clinging to the no-slip mat, already soaked and terrified. (Do spiders get terrified? I can’t think about that. I’ll start having nightmares about frightened spiders running away from my murderous cats.) 

I didn’t name her that first day. I put a towel down in the tub so she could climb up and out, onto the floor. Usually after that initial rescue, they don’t return. The basement, where this bathroom is located, is a spider wonderland. They’re great residents, controlling the inevitable population of pill bugs and other damp-loving bugs. It’s a Pittsburgh basement, what can I say?

On day two, being a thoughtful landlord, I checked the tub first. With no wolf spider in residence, I turned on the water. It wasn’t until the rinse cycle of my shower that I realized there was a wolf spider very reluctantly taking a shower with me. She was on the wet lid of the facewash, getting splashed every time I turned to rinse some other part of my soapy self. Poor baby.

I turned off the water, put her on the bathroom floor, and named her Lydia. Technically, her name should be Kitty but this spider is clearly a Lydia – always acting without thinking, getting herself into situations, and charming people into doing things for her. 

Mary is a house spider. She lives next to the bathroom door hinge and manages the tiny bug population for me. She’s kind of a loner. We don’t really interact. In fact, she hides whenever I clean the bathroom. I know she’s there because of the little carcases she leaves for me to sweep up.

Finally, when I found Lydia in the tub again yesterday, for the fifth time, I picked her up and took her into the unfinished portion of the basement. She’ll be fine there, well-fed and productive. 

Like I said, though, I looked for her this morning, knowing she wouldn’t be there. She put a smile on my face every morning for five days, a gift really. Thank you, Lydia; take care of yourself. Stay away from the cats.