This is the story of my life. A Daddy Longlegs (mouths are too small to bite humans) crawls out of the shower drain and my 11 year old tough guy runs screaming, "MOM!"
Our dogs gag on a frog/lizard/some other bug they ate, and pukes on the tile. My hubs runs screaming, "HON!"
This evening our dog, Nixon (Golden Retriever), finally catches the squirrel that often torments him from the pool screen. Hubs couldn't even walk over to check on the poor thing, let alone get Nixon away from him as he chomps on his little squirrel leg. He grabs Bam (our toddler) and comes in shaking his head saying, "Hon, I can't go over there." A look of worry and disgust on his face as I call 'the boys' inside.
Ugh *sigh*. I grab the dust pan and hand broom; trudge outside to the tree where the little guy was left to die. It's never a dull moment...he was gone. The little squirrel had played dead to get the dogs away. I waited a bit just to be sure he hadn't pulled himself under a bush in the yard, then let the dogs loose again. They searched high and low trying to find him, but the trail kept leading up the same tree he had missed earlier. Good for him!
So until the next spider, dog poop/puke, or caught squirrel, I'm off to relax with my Diet Dr. Pepper and Oreos.