Hard Love.

There’s a big spider that’s taken to getting stranded in my bathtub. Well, he’s not going to stay fat and healthy stranded in a bathtub, is he? So I have to give him a hand to get out, right? Right.

At first he plays hard to get, pretends to run away from the big bad monster with four legs missing. But then he calms down and walks onto my hand. And then he climbs up onto my sleeve and sits there.

‘Excuse me.’

Silence.

‘You can’t stay there or you’ll get squashed, one way or another. I’ve already found one headless rabbit on the verge today and I’m a pro-life man. You have to go and catch some microbes or something.’

More silence.

I shake him off onto the box thingy that covers the plumbing, where he continues to sit, looking glum. He has an air about him:

‘I thought you were my friend. I gave you my trust; I climbed onto your hand, and now you’ve rejected me. I’m very sad.’

I steel myself to do the unthinkable. I walk away and switch the bathroom light off. I just went back and he’d gone. For now. I hope he’s getting some supper.