We had one in the house yesterday afternoon. For normal households this is only a slight annoyance. For one of us in the family it’s catastrophic. Mamie cringes around, shaking, staring at the ceiling, glued to my side like a barnacle.
So, after dinner off we all went to Home Despot, arriving ten minutes before closing. We all hustled in, found the correct aisle, grabbed a product I hadn’t seen before – clear sticky strips you attach to your window, which are supposed to attract and trap flies. Knowing that otherwise the dog would likely be huddled trembling next to me in bed all night, I would have happily bought a Venus flytrap the size of Audrey II from Little Shop of Horrors.
I marched around the house, pasting the traps to windows, and for good measure, a lamp, plus the door coming in from the garage. The fly must have known we were up to no good because he didn’t show his face for the rest of the night. Mamie simmered down a little, burrowing next to me between a pillow and the couch. I had shut the bedroom door in the hope that the fly would limit its patrol to the rest of the house.
This morning I checked all the traps. Nothing.
I even tried adding to the bait by staging an empty butter container on a window sill. Nothing. Maybe the fly had keeled over in the night. I have no idea of the life span of a housefly. But then Mamie scurried into the kitchen, stopping to laser me with a panicked stare. The fly was back. I wandered ineffectually around, finding nothing. The dog would just have to pull up her socks and be brave.
Then while changing the bed, I glanced over at the window. There it was, lounging on its elbow on the windowsill, nowhere near the supposedly alluring sticky trap. I happened to have the white bedspread in my hand, and did the only thing possible, smashing my snowy bed covering into the window.
It took an hour or so, but Mamie finally relaxed, loosening up enough to weasel some of our cream-cheesed bagels from us.
Except we’re not out of the woods yet. As I write this, I can hear the distant rumble of an approaching thunderstorm.