In E. B. White’s popular children’s novel “Charlotte’s Web,” as you very likely once read and still fondly recall, a spider named Charlotte befriends a pig named Wilbur.

Here is a 280-character Tweet-length synopsis: As winter approaches, Wilbur is destined for the dinner table. Charlotte devises a plan to save his life by making him too famous for slaughter. She proceeds to weave four messages into her web – “Some Pig”, “Terrific”, “Radiant” and “Humble” – above Wilbur’s pen. Suddenly, people from far and wide are coming to see this special pig.

It is Charlotte, of course, who is truly special. In fact, most spiders are special for they are pest-control stalwarts. Hence, when I find one inside the house I go to the trouble of capturing it under a coffee mug; sliding a piece of paper under the rim; then carrying it outside to release in our drought-resistant yard. Usually.

Confession: When I encounter a spider during a middle-of-the-night trip to the bathroom I am more apt to grab a flip-flop sandal, not a mug of mercy, and administer a deadly TWHACK!

Such was my initial instinct not long ago, in the wee-wee hours of darkness, when I was greeted by an eight-legged intruder. Luckily for it – or she, for I soon named it Charlotte – she was inside the bathtub. I say luckily because since the tub is enclosed with sliding glass doors it seemed too much effort – and too noisy, for the doors rumble a bit and might awaken my much-better-half – to exterminate Charlotte.

Also, once you name a spider you really can’t THWACK! it with a shoe or rolled-up magazine.

Since the enclosed bath is basically a terrarium with no plants, I figured I would go back to bed and capture Charlotte in the morning and relocate her to the garden. This plan seemed good for both my cacti and my karma.

Come morning, as you might have guessed, Charlotte was gone. Possibly she made a prison break by climbing up and over the glass doors, although it seemed more likely she went down the drain like her famous nursery rhyme cousin The Itsy Bitsy Spider.

That night, to my surprise, my own itsy bitsy spider had climbed up the drain again.

“Hello, Charlotte,” I said, for that is what you do when you have named a spider. Moments later, turning off the light, I said in a pillow-talk whisper: “Goodnight, Charlotte.” Fortunately, my wife did not awaken and hear me for who knows what she would have thought since Charlotte is not her name.

This pattern continued for perhaps a week with the tub empty in daylight and Charlotte reappearing in the dark of night.

Then came a surprise. One afternoon, Charlotte materialized in the tub as if the moon was out. My impulse was to finally take her outside. On my way to get a coffee mug for capture, however, I had second thoughts. While Charlotte would be good for my garden, would the garden be good for her? Or, instead, might she wind up as a bird’s breakfast? As it was, she seemed to have a safe home in the drainpipes below.

And so I left well enough alone. Later, however, when I found a small spider web – empty at the time – anchored to the faucet and shower wall, it seemed she had decided to move in up above and I decided I would have to move her out the next time I saw her.

Alas, she has never reappeared, day or night.

Sadly, my Charlotte didn’t even weave a “Goodbye” note.

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

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