Ocho lives in the bathroom.
Not by invitation, but by circumstance. He’s a spider—small, brown, unassuming. The kind most people would crush without thinking, wash down the drain without guilt, remove because spiders don’t belong in human spaces.
But Ocho’s human made a different choice.
Every day, they soak a Q-Tip in water and place it wherever Ocho happens to be—on the orchid plant, behind the toilet, on the vanity. And Ocho eagerly comes over for a drink. He’s learned the routine. Recognized that this giant creature who could easily kill him instead offers hydration.
The post explained the philosophy simply: Ocho is tiny compared to me. I could easily get rid of him, but instead, I choose kindness. He has just as much of a right to exist on this earth as I do. In fact, he plays a far greater role in maintaining the natural balance of life than I ever could.
Because it’s true. Spiders eat insects. They control pest populations. They’re part of ecosystems that function because every creature plays a role. Ocho isn’t invading—he’s existing. Doing what spiders do. Contributing to the balance in ways most humans never consider.
And instead of seeing him as a problem to eliminate, his human sees him as a neighbor. A tiny life sharing space. Someone deserving of coexistence, not extermination.
The photo shows Ocho drinking from the Q-Tip, his small body positioned carefully, legs splayed as he takes in water. It’s a moment of trust between species that usually don’t trust each other—a spider who’s learned that this human means safety, and a human who’s chosen to honor a life most people wouldn’t even notice.
This perspective challenges the default response most of us have to spiders. We’re taught to fear them, kill them, remove them. They’re creepy, unwanted, dangerous (even though most aren’t). We don’t consider that they’re just trying to survive. That they didn’t choose to end up in our bathrooms—they’re just looking for food, shelter, the same things all living creatures need.
Ocho’s human chose differently. Chose to see a living creature, not a pest. Chose to share space rather than claim dominion. Chose kindness over convenience.
And in doing so, they created something beautiful. A daily ritual of care for something small. A relationship—if you can call it that—between a human and a spider who’s learned that this particular giant can be trusted.
Every morning, the Q-Tip appears. Every morning, Ocho drinks. And every morning, a tiny act of compassion happens in a bathroom where most people would never think to look for it.
This isn’t about everyone needing to keep spiders as bathroom companions. It’s about the principle underneath. That we share this planet with countless other lives. That being bigger, stronger, more powerful doesn’t mean we have to dominate or destroy. That sometimes, the kindest choice is the one that preserves life rather than eliminating it.
Ocho plays a greater role in maintaining natural balance than his human ever could. He eats insects. Contributes to the ecosystem. Exists as part of the intricate web of life that functions because every creature matters.
And in return, his human gives him water. Shares space. Lets him live.
It’s such a small act. A Q-Tip soaked in water. A few seconds each day. But it represents something profound: the choice to be kind to something that can’t repay you. The decision to value life, even tiny life, even life that scares most people.
Ocho lives in the bathroom. And his human lets him. Because kindness doesn’t require someone to be big, important, or human.
Sometimes it just requires recognizing that the tiny spider in your bathroom has just as much right to exist as you do.
And choosing to let him.