I asked him to wait. Told him just to stay where he was. Explained that his other options were decidedly poorer ones and ones he’d be likely to regret.

But he didn’t listen.

Even after he’d reached the relative safety of the shower rod…

With Posey there, he never stood a chance.

A centipede joined me in the shower this morning. Actually, it would probably be fairer to say that I joined him. But as I didn’t notice him until I was washing my hair, there wasn’t a whole lot I could do about it until the shower was over.

I kept an eye on him as he inched up the shower curtain, probably trying to escape the spray that had awakened him earlier than he’d wanted on a Wednesday morning. He wasn’t making any sudden moves, but I didn’t want him falling into my hair. I don’t mind centipedes, but there are limits, you understand. I asked him to stop, that I’d rescue him as soon as I was done.

But at one point, after he’d reached the shower rod, I turned around and he was gone. “Thank goodness,” I breathed. He crawled off somewhere to safety.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. I turned around again and there he was at the other end of the rod. “Okay,” I said. “I see you. You’re fine.”

But he didn’t trust me, or he was really keen for a morning run, because he started off again across the rod. He was impressive, all those shaggy legs undulating in unison as he navigated the curtain rings.

But apparently it doesn’t matter how many legs you have; if you step wrong with one of them, you still fall down.

And down he fell, but not into my hair or the water at the bottom of the tub.

But on the room side of the curtain, where, without my knowledge, Posey was keeping me company this morning.

With one of the other cats, he might have stood a chance. Run fast (which centipedes do) and then keep still. Della wouldn’t have followed him under anything. Jeremiah would have lost interest if he couldn’t reach him and if there was no movement for a while. But Posey doesn’t have a lot of thoughts to clutter up her brain, so she can spend a while waiting.

By the time I was done showering, he was gone. I took his corpse outside so he could have the freshly dampened ground under him once more.

Do you see why it is I have such a hard time killing household pests? Pests to me and you, but still living creatures that are just out for the same things I am — a good meal and a place to sleep. I’d hate for some huge creature to decide that I was in its way or was amusing in my attempts to flee it.

Stomach-twisting thoughts for a Wednesday morning…