If you spot these mysterious black dots in your kitchen, you had better know what they mean

Can a spider poo? A mother turned to Facebook seeking guidance as she expressed her confusion over discovering a set of black droppings scattered throughout her home. Posting on a Mrs. Hinch fan page, she shared a series of images revealing peculiar black specks along her skirting board and wall.

Spider poo on the skirting of a home

Anyone have any idea what this is?” She asked. “Just appeared this last week or so on the skirting board in my dining room, also bits on the wallpaper and the floor which gets mopped every day! It’s not bumpy, it looks like some sort of paint splatter but it isn’t.” She continued.

Spider poo on the skirting of a home

Followers came back with a common answer – Spider Poo

Commenters all agreed that it was indeed, spider poo

Fellow enthusiasts of Mrs. Hinch promptly came to the rescue, with users confidently asserting that the markings were indeed spider droppings. One wrote: “It happens a lot this time of year, spiders pooing everywhere, Dettox spray is good for it.” While another said: “It’s spider poo after they’ve eaten flies. I get it on my window sill.” Others said it could have been “fly poo” while one user was adamant, it was “spider poo for defs”.

What do the experts say?

According to various sources offering advice on pests, spiders typically do not leave solid droppings; instead, their excrement is thick and liquid in consistency, resembling dark ink stains. These markings often appear on walls and surfaces.

Spider feces are not solid; instead, they appear as dark stains or drips on walls and surfaces. The specific appearance of the droppings varies among spider species, making it challenging for the untrained eye to distinguish.

Typically, spider poop accumulates in a specific location below their web, often in corners with cobwebs on walls. Since spiders seek dark or undisturbed places for refuge, their droppings may unexpectedly appear in various locations. The size of spider droppings is approximately that of a pinhead, and they exhibit a monotone color, with variations in white, black, gray, or brown hues.

Is spider poo dangerous to handle?

While spider poop is not proven to transmit pathogens, it is advisable to treat it with caution and handle it as if it were potentially toxic. Studies indicate that pathogens ingested by spiders do not typically pass on through their droppings.

Nevertheless, it’s important to exercise caution and thoroughly wash hands with soap and water after handling spider feces. Cleaning fresh spider droppings is easier, while dried ones may require more effort to remove and may leave behind yellow stains.

It’s essential to note that cleaning up spider poop does not eliminate the spiders responsible for it. To prevent the reappearance of droppings, taking action against these creatures is necessary. Maintaining a highly tidy environment and removing every spider web you encounter is a good starting point. There are also products available to assist with infestations, and professional pest control services are well-equipped to handle such situations.

We settled into a house that had previously been owned by a man who had passed away, and a dog visited us daily. One day, I decided to follow it

When Maggie moves into a new house with her son, Ethan, and husband, Kyle, she is more than ready for a new start. Her son needed fresh scenery and a new school, and Maggie just wanted him to be happy. But one day, a husky wanders into their yard, eating their food and growing close to Ethan. Soon after, the husky leads Maggie and Ethan into the woods, ready to show them something devastating…

When we moved into our new house, I had a good feeling. It was a new chapter in our lives, and I was more than ready for it. Kyle, my husband, and I were excited to give our son, Ethan, a fresh start. He had recently gone through a bullying experience at school, and we all wanted to just put it behind us.

The house had belonged to an older man named Christopher, who’d passed away recently. His daughter, a woman in her forties, sold it to us, telling us that it was too painful to keep and that she hadn’t even lived in it since her father’s death.

“There’s too many memories in there, you know?” she told me when we first met to walk through the house. “And I don’t want it to get into the wrong hands. I want it to be a home to a family who will love it as much as my family did.”

“I know exactly what you mean, Tracy,” I said reassuringly. “We’ll make this house into our forever home.”

We were eager to settle in, but from the first day, something strange happened. Every morning, a husky would show up at our front door. He was an old dog, with graying fur and piercing blue eyes that seemed to look right through you.

The sweet boy didn’t bark or make a fuss. He would just sit there, waiting. Of course, we gave him some food and water, figuring that he belonged to a neighbor. After eating, he’d wander off like it was routine.

“Do you think his owners just don’t feed him enough, Mom?” Ethan asked one day when we were at the grocery store getting our weekly groceries and food for the husky, too.

“I don’t know, E,” I said. “Maybe the old man who lived in our house fed him, so it’s part of his routine?”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Ethan said, adding some dog treats to our cart.

At first, we didn’t think much of it. Kyle and I wanted to get Ethan a dog; we just wanted to wait until he was settled down at his new school first.

But then, he came the next day. And the day after that. Always at the same time, always sitting patiently by the porch.

It felt like the husky wasn’t just any stray. He acted like he belonged here. Like we were just temporary guests in his home. It was strange, but we didn’t think much of it.

Ethan was over the moon. And I knew that my son was slowly falling in love with the husky. He spent as much time as he could running around with the dog, tossing sticks for him, or sitting on the porch, talking to him like they’d known each other forever.

I would watch from the kitchen window, smiling at the way Ethan had immediately bonded with this mysterious dog.

It was exactly what Ethan needed after everything he had been through at his old school.

One morning, while petting him, Ethan’s fingers traced the dog’s collar.

“Mom, there’s a name here!” he called out.

I came over and knelt down next to the dog, brushing away some of the fur covering the worn leather collar on him. The name was barely visible, but there it was:

Christopher Jr.

My heart skipped a beat.

Was it just a coincidence?

Christopher, just like the man who had owned our house? Could this husky have been his dog? The thought sent a chill down my spine. Tracy hadn’t mentioned anything about a dog.

“Do you think he’s been coming here because it used to be his home?” Ethan asked, looking up at me with wide eyes.

I shrugged, feeling a little unsettled.

“Maybe, sweetheart. But it’s hard to say.”

At the same time, it felt like the husky wasn’t just any stray. He acted like he belonged here. Like we were just temporary guests in his home. It was strange, but we didn’t think much of it.

Later that day, after Christopher Jr. had eaten, he began to act strange.

He whined softly, pacing back and forth near the edge of the yard, his eyes darting toward the woods. He had never done that before. But now, it was almost like he was asking us to follow him.

The dog stopped and stared straight ahead, and that’s when I saw it.
“Mom, I think he wants us to go with him!” Ethan said excitedly, already pulling on his jacket.

I hesitated.

“Darling, I’m not sure that’s a good idea…”

“Come on, Mom!” Ethan said. “We’ve got to see where he’s going and what’s going on. We’ll take our phones and I’ll text Dad so that he knows. Please?”

I didn’t want to do it, but I was curious. There was something about the dog’s urgency that made me think that this was more than just a random walk in the woods.

So, we followed.

The husky led the way, glancing back at us every so often to make sure we were still there. The air was crisp, and the woods were quiet, except for the occasional snap of a twig under our boots.

“You’re still sure about this?” I asked Ethan.

“Yes!” he said excitedly. “Dad has our location, don’t worry, Mom.”

We walked for about twenty minutes, deeper and deeper into the forest. Deeper than I’d ever been before. I was just about to suggest turning back when the husky stopped abruptly at a small clearing.

The dog stopped and stared straight ahead, and that’s when I saw it.

There was a pregnant fox, trapped in a hunter’s snare, barely moving at all.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, rushing toward the fox.

She was weak, her breathing shallow, her fur matted with dirt. The trap had dug into her leg, and she was trembling with pain.

“Mom, we’ve got to help her!” Ethan said, his voice shaking. “Look at her, she’s hurt!”

“I know, I know,” I said, my hands fumbling to free her from the cruel trap. The husky stood close, whining softly as if he understood the fox’s pain.

After what felt like an eternity, I managed to loosen the trap. The fox didn’t move at first. She just lay there, panting heavily.

“We have to get her to the vet immediately, E,” I said, pulling out my phone to call Kyle.

When Kyle arrived, we gently wrapped the fox in a blanket that he brought and rushed her to the nearest vet clinic. The husky, of course, came with us.

It felt like he wasn’t going to leave the fox, not after all of this.

The vet said that the fox needed surgery, and we waited nervously in the small, sterile room. Ethan was quiet, sitting next to the husky, his hands resting on the dog’s thick fur.

“You think she’ll make it, Mom?” Ethan asked.

“I hope so, honey,” I said, squeezing his shoulder. “She’s tough. And we did everything we could.”

The surgery was successful, but when the fox woke up, she was howling, her cries echoing through the clinic.

The vet couldn’t calm her down, and neither could Kyle. But when I walked into the room, she stopped. Her eyes locked onto mine, and she let out one last soft whimper before falling silent.

“It’s like she knows you helped her,” the vet said.

We went back for her two days later, and brought her home. We set her up in a small den in the garage where she could rest and recover. CJ, the husky, as Ethan had taken to calling him, stayed with Vixen the fox the entire time.

A few days later, she gave birth to four tiny kits. It was truly the most amazing thing I’d ever seen. And she let me be a part of it.

“She only lets us near her babies,” Ethan told me one day when we went to check on Vixen and the babies. “She trusts us.”

I nodded and smiled.

“And the dog too,” I added. “Little CJ seems to be right at home with us.”

When the babies were old enough, Kyle and I knew it was time to let them go. We built a proper den for them back in the forest and watched as Vixen disappeared into it with her babies.

Now, every weekend, Ethan, CJ, and I walk to the forest to visit them. The fox always comes out to greet us, her kits trailing behind her, just as curious as ever.

What would you have done?

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