It’s a sad day here at work. I think my little friend has moved on… to what, I’m not sure, but he’s gone. Packed up and gone.

My little friend is “Winston”. I affectionately named him that the day I discovered him. The name “Winston” just sort of suits him. He’s a spider who has lived outside my office window for months, you know,  just hanging around day after day. Several times now I thought he’d left for good, only to find out he’d merely moved his web to a new spot, either sunnier, or drier, or just better. But today, I don’t see him anywhere. No web, no little legs dangling down, no nothing.

A close comparison to what Winston looked like. Minus the grin of course.

I should point out that I’m not particularly fond of bugs, especially spiders, but since he has kept mainly to himself and nowhere near me or my belongings, I kinda liked having him here. Had I encountered him running across my computer screen, or sitting on my desk, or {gasp} meandering amidst the contents in my candy drawer, well then, we may have a different kind of relationship. No one steals my candy. No one.

This is me when it comes to my candy…

Luckily, Winston lived in the great outdoors, and was no threat to my candy supply. (thank heavens!)

That being said, a year or so ago I did have a spider in my office who I affectionately named “Norman” and he lived in the big binders that house the old microfiche files. I stumbled upon him one day as he was quickly getting out of my way. I let him stay in his little “binder” house because he was kind enough to leave anytime I needed to look through his house for a film strip. And truth be known, he was too big and scary looking for me to get involved in having a battle over boundaries or property lines. I just let him be. Then one day, Norman left too. I found him a few months later, deceased, on the bottom shelf of the bookcase – not far from his house. {sigh} That was a sad day too. (though now I wonder if “Nanna” had anything to do with Norman’s death… hahaha… the story of Nanna and her homicidal tendencies towards insects can be found here.)

It reminded me of the old Canadian tv show called The Littlest Hobo. For those of you around the world who aren’t familiar with it, it is a sort of Canadian version of a homeless Lassie, except Lassie’s human costars actually had talent. The Littlest Hobo originally aired back in 1979 (through 1985) and has been in syndication many times over the years. I watched it a few times in the last six months or so, merely because it was like watching a car accident happen… I couldn’t look away. The acting was awful, so much so, I was embarrassed the show was Canadian. Seriously. We all know the kind of poor quality show…. like in one scene when the dog jumps from a moving car and you can tell the real dog was replaced by a stuffed toy that was thrown by someone because you see a glimpse of a person’s arm, and it wasn’t even the same kind of dog. That’s quality tv, I tell ya. (of course, I’d rather a toy being tossed out than someone pushing a real dog, but still.)


The premise was a homeless German Shepherd dog that wandered around from town to town encountering people to help. One episode was where the dog helped an innocent man wrongly accused of murder. Talk about nail-biting CSI material or what. Another riveting episode was when he helped protect an elderly prospector from greedy land-grabbers. Wowsers. Not to mention the compelling episode when the dog helped a young boy prove to his mother that you don’t have to play a rough sport like hockey to have courage. Like holy cow, and to think that there was a chance we could have gone through our entire lives when a story like that may not have been told.

At the end of each episode the dog would walk away – much to the bewilderment and heartache of his new friends – and go to his next adventure.

As a small kid when it was on, I’ve been told that I used to cry at the theme song because the dog had no home. I was baffled as to where he would have slept, where did he go when he was cold, who fed him food and treats, what if he was thirsty??? Didn’t anyone love the dog??? I was a softy. Still am.When I saw it a few weeks ago, I hate to admit that there I was, 30-some years old sitting on the sofa and getting misty eyed when the theme song music started. The images coupled with the music would move me to tears every time. And evidently still does. (sniff sniff)

On a (somewhat) brighter/darker side (depending on how you look at it), while Winston may have gone, I’ve just now noticed that the crumb of english muffin I dropped earlier this morning and was too lazy to pick up has disappeared. I’m thinking I might have a new many-legged workspace roommate. I really hope (for their sake) it’s not the family of ants I evicted from my office last spring for stealing my stuff.

The ants I had last summer were just like this little brat… stealing jelly beans from my desk.

It was about to get really ugly. Like this…

Don’t make me obliterate you with one finger. (yuck…like THAT would happen… I’d use my shoe.)

Soooo… it appears my beloved Winston has moved on. How sad. Farewell dear Winston.

I guess on that note… “Maybe tomorrow, [he’ll] want to settle down… until tomorrow, [he’ll] just keep moving on….”