Taking on a pet requires a ton of time, discipline, knowledge, care, and most important of all love. What happens then, if I only have lots of love to give and nothing else? The result is a spoiled, little (it’s a foot tall) spider staring at me with its beady and small (half an inch in diameter), black eyes.

It has been a week since then and I’m having quite the troublesome time. Having trouble in the sense that I couldn’t stop feeding him insects. I knew that I was spoiling him too much, but I couldn’t help not to. What can I say? My weakness for domesticated animals that acts stupidly cute and awkward knows no bounds. Although, the creature in front of me isn’t domesticated at all. He's a wild animal that I incidentally ‘found' skittering on the ground. I didn’t kidnap him, okay? Oh heavens, no! I really found him all lonesome and abandoned, and I just had to take him home with me.

Okay, maybe I did do it, but it’s for the betterment of his future. I swear that it’s for the best. I really do.

“Picasso, if you want to grow into a proper self-sustaining adult in the future, you always have to listen to what I say. Okay?” I said, knowing full well that he couldn't understand a single word that came out of my mouth.

I think even without my help he would turn into one, but due to my unnecessary interference with nature’s due course, he’s uselessly just following me around and waiting for food to be served. It's nice, to be honest. He kind of reminded me of my old dog when he was just a little pup back then. Always behind me with his tail wagging from left to right whenever I look back.

Even with my proud proclamation of guiding him, I had no inkling of a clue on how to do it myself. Depending on my next course of actions, the growth of this child is on the line. So, I don’t really want to mess it up. But I think I’ll just put that on hold in the meantime. First, I need to gather some opinions and advices from the pros. Google would have been the perfect choice.

Also, you might wonder why I named him ‘Picasso’. It’s because of his colorful skin that reminded me of one of the great painter’s childish paintings that I saw on the internet. Not that I have something against his distinguished works, but it’s just strokes of paint on a canvas. What’s so special about it? Even a blind child with no hands can do it and it might even sell for millions after their death.

It's a tragedy, really. People can't place much value on anything when that person's still alive and kicking. Only after they're gone that the money would roll in. What use would that be when he or she can't even enjoy it.

I noticed that he stopped following me from behind.

“A colorful and attractive bug? A big no-no for you, Picasso”

He eyed a menacing insect that screamed the words ‘extremely poisonous and deadly', so I took him away before he could even do something reckless. You can never be too careful.

And as you might have observed, I can see the colorful world once more. A miracle that I can’t seem to remember when it happened. It just suddenly became this way without even realizing it myself. That comes with its own drawbacks, though. Like not being able to see anything in the dead of night and I’m not black anymore. Now, I’m just pussy white. What gives? In other news, I can positively confirm that I’m not naked and am wearing the clothes that I had back then. I honestly thought those things ate it away.

“Where are we?” I asked myself that question, though the answer could easily be answered without thinking too much about it. We were lost.

I climbed the nearest tree as a vantage point and laughed again as all I saw in the horizon felt eerily similar wherever I looked. Trees. Trees as far as the eye could see. Picasso followed me up on the tree and settled on my right shoulder. Cute, as you might say, but a one-foot spider weighing over three pounds causes problems for my posture and back. It’s one of my childhood fantasies to have an animal perching on my shoulders like this, so I won't complain.

As I was contemplating on what direction we should to, in the far off distance of the never-ending sea of trees, I saw a conspicuous trail of smoke that rose its way into the heavens. Smoke signified that there’s a fire. Fire meant that someone rubbed two sticks together to create friction. You needed two hands to do that, and what sort of magnificent creature has hands? Monkeys, of course. Intellectual monkeys that knows how to be handy-dandy.

I jumped down from the tree and took off in haste towards our new destination. There’s been one thing weighing on my mind that’s kept on pestering me for a while now and meeting someone else here might resolve that issue.

Or it could be a hostile foe

That too, but what are the chances of that happening?