Spiderdog, Spiderdog, Does Whatever a Spiderdog Does

Dad: "Brandy, come check on your dog."
Me: "Why, what'd he do?"
Dad: "Just come and see."
Me: "What is it? What did he get into?"
Dad: "Trust me, when you see him, all will become clear to you."
Me: "Where is he?"
Dad: "In the garage. I'm not letting him in my house."

I opened the door to the garage, looked down, exclaimed, "Oh hell no!" and shut the door again to Dad's gleeful cackling.

This is what greeted me:


Sam, the spider-hunter. I guess covering your face in cobwebs is a camouflage technique?

Despite my EXTREME aversion to spiders, I dutifully grabbed some paper towels and wiped off his face. But seriously, what a knucklehead.