Advertisement I had a 6 year old female Brazilian Black tarantula I got as a sling at a reptile show. I'd actualIy gone out of my way to go to this show specifically looking for a female Grammostola pulchra. She was the only one there, and I lucked out that she turned out to be female. I named her Nanners when she did something goofy a few days after I got her. She was pulling up big clods of substrate and hiding/sitting in the holes, so I told her she was acting "bananas", and that's how the name happened lol. She was the cutest, calmest (well, most of the time), sweetest thing. She had a funny ridge of hair between her eyes that looked like the world's tiniest mohawk. She had a great temperament and was entertainingly quirky (for instance sometimes she liked killing all her crickets at once, and smooshing them into a disgusting "murderball", which she would protect from me). I loved her so much. Even my now husband loved her, and he doesn't care so much for arachnids like I do. Thankfully, he does follow my no spider killing in the house policy. Anyways, about 2 years ago it was spring, and I was cleaning off the shelf that I kept Nanners's tank on. It was nice out, so I set her tank on an outside patio table in the shade while I cleaned. About an hour or so later I was cleaning around the kitchen, looked outside at the nice day and saw it.... the tank sitting in full sunlight on a now much warmer day. I felt sick. I knew she wasn't ok before I checked. The tank had gotten too hot inside, she'd tried to hide in her little log, which was where she'd died. I killed her by being stupid enough to put her outside where the elements could potentially harm her, and then forgetting she was even there. I buried her in my yard. She was my first tarantula, it's been over 2 years and I still have yet to get another. I'd like one, but thinking about it still makes me feel guilty, like I don't deserve another one. It's not like this was my first pet. I'm in my 30s, so it really shocks me how sad I still get sometimes about her, and feeling so awful for cutting her lifespan short by about 20 years. I would have expected to grieve her like a fish maybe, or other small pet that you are sad about, but move on. It's been 2 years and I still tear up about her! Does this make me weird? I think the guilt of accidentally killing her, and knowing she would have lived so much longer, makes it a lot worse. Also, it probably was an unpleasant way to go :*(...essentially cooking her really messes with my head. I think that's the worst part of it. Knowing that it had to have hurt, right? Does anyone else get super attached to their tarantulas? I feel a little nuts that I'm unable to sleep, grieving a tarantula two years after it died, grieving it enough to join this forum and post about it. How weird am I to still be upset about a pet that probably never even really liked me that much, or saw me as anything other than a cricket dispenser?