Two Tiny Killers, One Big Creepy Crawler

I think I’ve mentioned before that I am learning to co-exist with the creepy crawlers that are everywhere in our lovely little village. But last week there was one (usually harmless) critter who tormented my dogs and me, and it became a battle of epic and humorous proportions.

It began when I heard our two tiny doxies, Kitti and Bunni, singing the canine "song of their people," calling their humans--and the entire animal kingdom--to action with a mixture of baying, howling, and high-pitched screeching. Those lyrics are reserved for the times they’ve found something particularly tantalizing. It’s a terrifying sound because it usually means they’re in danger. Hearing it sent me flying down the stairs three at a time.

When I arrived at the fence, which they were brutally attacking, there was nothing there. No angry tarantula, no pissed-off possum, no dinosaur iguana, no killer snake. None of the usual suspects. Not even a harmless (but tasty!) gecko. Yet they continued their frantic cries, pawing and chewing at the gate, splintering the wood with their tiny little teeth.

Having rescued my girls many times before, I’d at least had the forethought to grab a broom on my way downstairs. Irritated at the false alarm, I jabbed it at the gate to show my frenzied little monsters that there was nothing for them to worry about. However, as I pulled my broom away, one huge claw snapped out, and my two tiny killers nearly lost their minds.

It was a massive land crab! He was hiding by hanging upside down on the big rolling gate. Harmless enough, but as the pups continued to harrass him, his angry, powerful claw nipped closer and closer to their tiny, ferocious noses. By now, the neighbor had appeared, nervously checking to see if the depths of hell had opened up at my gate. The noise was unrelenting as my diminutive dogs voiced their rage at the crab's intrusion! Hurriedly, I scooped them up and tossed them inside. In response, they cranked up the volume, echoing their frustration for all the village to hear. I headed back downstairs, intending to shoo the crab away with my trusty broom.

And that’s where things got ugly. The more I pushed that damn crab around in an attempt to get him to leave, the more he came at me. I just wanted him to go away, but he wasn’t leaving without a fight.  He angrily snapped at the broom. Over and over, he grabbed the bristles just long enough for me to prepare to toss him, then dropped to the ground and scuttled back under the gate. I wielded that broom like a ninja warrior. He feinted and bobbed like Mike Tyson, and snapped at my bare toes with fury. His claws grabbed for purchase with every swish of the broom. And I started sweating. And cussing. And beating at that damn fence with a vengeance.

At long last, nearly crying, I managed to sweep that angry bastard from under the gate and into the middle of the lane. With one last heave ho, I hurled him into the tall grass next to the water. Severely mangled, one eyestalk broken and dangling drunkenly on his back, he clumsily plopped into the the canal. Exhausted, I returned to the yard where I saw the neighbor watching me. I waved and called out to him that everything was all right. He grimaced awkwardly and turned away. About this time, I saw the passengers on the water taxi, which cruises by our place many times a day, glaring at me with a mixture of shock and disgust.

“No worries!” I reassured them, “Just defeating a killer land crab. I’ve got it under control!” And there you have it, just another day in paradise.  And for the rest of the day, at least after the dogs finally calmed down, it most certainly was.