It started when she was young. For their first date, my grandpa took her out for a ride in the desert. How romantic, right? Nope. He then proceeded to pull out a revolver and gaver her brief instructions on how to fire it at the quickly scampering tarantulas. Knowing my grandma, you'd think this would make her squeemish, but no. She picked up the gun and easily outshot him!
Then as a young mother, she had to fend for her kids while her husband was away. There is a most unfortunately infamous gecko in my family who, sadly, was violently beaten to death with a flyswatter. He made the mistake of surprising my grandma while she was doing the dishes. She started screaming and wailing, and when she was done, there wasn't much left of it.
And even in her old age, her sharp instincts to protect her family from vermin were still sharply intact. With 1/2 of one lung and a pacemaker, she used to go outside and hunt scorpions on the porch with my brother. Scorpions are very resilliant and hard to kill. I prefer to use fire. She preferred to use her oxygen tank.
We always used to tease her about it, because she really was such a soft-spoken individual. And yet she could down a fly with a handtowel from three feet away without batting an eye. She made household weaponry and art form! But my brother and I found out, while cleaning the garage one summer, that she also stuck to the basics.
Why on earth she had this hidden away in her garage, we may never know.
She was the most loving old lady I ever knew. But when it came to creepy crawlers, you just don't mess with grandma.