Fred
There is a spider living out on our back deck between the house and the table umbrella. He started out by our floodlights to the left of the sliding glass door but eventually outgrew that area and moved to the right side to the place I just described. Jim and I started observing "Fred" when he was about the size of a dime and he has now grown to the size of a half-dollar. He spins a four-foot-in-diameter-web nightly. I'm not sure if it's some sort of pregnancy-related mothering-hormonal thing, but I've kind of gotten kind of attached to him. Now keep in mind that he generally is only out at night and therefore I have NEVER gotten anywhere close to him.

Until this morning.

I let the dogs out every morning before getting ready for work, and this morning Shiloh ran right to the stagnant-water-filled pond and began lapping it up. If I stay inside and yell, he ignores me. Most of the time when I chase after him, he ignores me as well, but I had to try. That water can't be good for him. As I ran outside yelling, I caught a glimpse of something in my peripheral vision to the right. I glanced over, only to be staring Fred right in the fangs. I say fangs because it's what I immediately focused on. He's so big you can see his freaking fangs. I yelled, "whoa", and Fred retreated into his umbrella. It's his now, anyway.

Now I'm not sure how I feel about Fred. I'm still not scared of him-as long as we're separated by the door, but I definitely don't want to encounter him again. I've always had the rule that as long as they stay outside (and aren't blocking the front door), they can live. Up until this point, I've thought I'd make an exception if Fred got in (a.k.a. try to get him back outside), but after this morning, I'm pretty sure it would go something like this:

Step one: piss pants.
Step two: squish.

Hopefully we'll never have to find out.