It’s that scary spider time

It’s spider season in my house.

They appear in the evenings, marching boldly across the carpet as Flossie and I sit on the sofa watching TV. 

Our reactions differ. Mine depends on size. If they are bigger than a pound coin, I have to try not to get shrieky.

Flossie’s reaction is always the same. She flies off the sofa and pounces on them. Usually she misses, the canny spider scuttling under a piece of furniture, just out of reach. 

She then lies in wait for it to re-emerge. The spider stays put and Flossie eventually forgets what she’s waiting for. 

Early one morning, as I logged onto my laptop, I was alarmed to see a spider crawl across the screen. 

I went hot and cold as I remembered a computer virus involving a spider. Surely my computer wasn’t infected?

However, I quickly realised it wasn’t an image on my computer. It was an actual spider, sashaying confidently across my beach scene screen saver. 

I flung my laptop down onto the sofa with a squeal. Flossie looked puzzled.

The spider edged down the screen. I was worried it might crawl into my keyboard, to permanently haunt me whenever I typed. 

I grabbed the laptop and rushed into the kitchen. Flossie trotted after me, keen not to miss any action. 

I flipped the laptop upside down and shook it vigorously over the sink. It probably wasn’t a sensible way to treat a computer but this was an emergency situation.

The spider dropped off the keyboard and landed next to the plughole. I exhaled with relief, my heart pumping. Now I could deal with it. 

I put on my rubber gloves, gently scooped it up and walked carefully to the back door, intending to release it to the elements.

Unfortunately, as I grappled with the door, I let go of the spider. 

Seizing the opportunity, Flossie sprang on the unsuspecting creature, and ate it. 

The best intentions don’t always go to plan.