Binky

People always made a face when I said I had a pet tarantula. But Binky (yes, that was his name) was fascinating. He didn’t cuddle. He didn’t play. He didn’t even move much. But when he did? Pure precision. Very docile. Never bit, never hissed. Just chilled in his enclosure, occasionally redecorating with bits of webbing. Feeding time was interesting—watching him pounce on crickets was like watching a nature documentary in real time. I didn’t expect to get attached, but I did. You notice patterns. His posture, his moods, his favourite hideout. One day, he didn’t come out for food. Just stayed in his burrow. I waited. Two days, three. Then I gently checked. He was curled, motionless. He’s buried in a small container in the garden. I know he was “just a spider,” but I genuinely miss him. He taught me how to appreciate the quiet things.