When I was living with my ex, a black widow managed to make its way into the house and find the perfect spot to hang out: the gap between the sliding closet doors in the master bedroom, about six inches from the ground. Right where one of the cats might encounter it. Nevertheless, I spent about a week and a half attempting to capture the beastie without hurting it. Don't ask me why; I saw what one of them did to my father when I was a kid. His hand and arm swelled up something awful.
Fast little suckers. Hard to catch. I finally succeeded, but what a headache. When I moved to my new house and saw a black widow out in the garden (again, right where my cat was likely to have a close encounter), I thought, "To hell with it" and executed it. Nature-lover, that's me.
But I really do like spiders, mostly.