You kill spiders or you don't.

My children are afraid of spiders. They see them as intuders into our livng space. I see them as defenders of our space, eating the bugs that would otherwise invade us and take us over. They stomp on them when they see them, while I let them run free, knowing that they're eating the very bugs we want to keep out of our houses.

Granted, spiders are scary-looking. They have eight legs and lots of eyes and don't look anything like us or our friends. But, in their own way, they are on our side. They're out to eat all the bugs we don't want to get into our pantries, our flour or corn meal or whatever. They take out those mites before they can replicate. Sure, they look strange, but they don't do much harm as they scurry across the floor in search of food. And they don't ever look up to us, the humans, for direction -- or mercy.

They exist on a level below ours, eating the bugs that would otherwise be not just in our food but all over our silverware and spatulas. Because of the spiders, our bug count is down, house by house, depending on whether we kill them or not.

So why do so many of us kill them? Stomp them? Swat them? Fear them?

I think we've all heard horror stories about spiders biting people -- remember that movie, Arachnophobia? Spooky but pretty unrealistic. I'm pretty sure most of us have never known anyone who has been bitten by a spider. Yes, it happens, but it's rare.

Come on, admit it: It's because they look so strange -- all those legs and no face. And a propensity for building webs that trap insects. Hey, everyone has to eat, right?

Think about this: lots of our fellow humans are weird-looking, too, but we don't swat them. We tolerate them, if not actually valuing them. Why not the spider?

He or she hides from us -- as if expecting the random swat or stomp -- and eats unwanted bugs, so why not leave him or her alone? They're so tiny -- even the biggest of them -- and so soft and vulnerable. Do we get some pleasure out of squishing them? (That speaks to something in us, not them, don't you think?)

I encounter one occasionally in the bathtub. How he/she got there I can't imagine, but he/she has no way out. The spider happened into the tub but can't climb the slick walls to get back out. And here I am about to turn on the water, which will mean immediately death by drowning.

What do I do? Well, I tear off some toilet paper and try to pick him/her up. It takes a while, but usually I can do it, without squashing the poor thing, and then I toss it, along with the paper, onto the floor behind me. More often than not, the spider survives and scrambles away. Once in a while, it stays crumpled up on the floor: I've killed it. I didn't mean to. But how can you rescue an animal that doesn't know you're trying to rescue it and that has no exo-skeleton to protect it? Picking up a spider with toilet paper is not easy. Venturing into the bathtub often means sure death for a spider.

As I said, I'm a defender of spiders. They have their place in the natural order of things. They eat bugs. And just like the guys who collect your trash, or the morticians who deal with your dead, it's not a job you (or I) want, but it's a necessary one.

Why not just get out of their way and let them do their work?

Maybe you're a killer of spiders but nothing else. You harbor a certain fear/hatred/repulsion that -- like Garfield the cat in the popular cartoon strip -- provokes you to swat them or step on them, often feeling good about yourself for having done so (at least Garfield feels that way). Do you also fear and kill bees and wasps and ants -- all of whom serve a natural fuction and are not much more likely to bite or sting you than spiders? Do you kill them, too? If so, why? If not, why not?

Back to spiders. I think we have a problem with them because they're creepy looking and move in a slow, ominous way on all those legs. And no, they have no face, unless you want to count all those eyes. But have you ever seen the face of an ant up close? At least as surrealistic as a spiders: all chomping parts and no soul. Same for a wasp. For my part, I think a spider has more personality than either an ant or a wasp or a bee: often it seems more deliberate in its actions, not just programmed by nature to follow a certain scent trail or built-in behavior. A spider makes choices.

Maybe that's why I value spiders more than some other lowly creatures, despite their appearance: they seem to be more complicated. Not human, not by a long shot, but moving through their lives -- across our floors, in and out of shadows and crevices -- with real thought (or what passes for it on that level), sizing up situations -- do I run or do I stay? do I venture out onto that web to see if that creature is really sewn up? -- before just scattering like cockroaches or buzzing away like bees. Spiders, like humans, take their time.

My overall theory regarding other creatures is "live and let live". If you don't threaten me, I'll leave you alone. In fact, as with spiders, I may even appreciate you. I'm always reluctant to interfere with the natural order of things for no good reason.

If you bite me, though, or sting me, then it's every man and bug for himself!