Welcome back from Thanksgiving break, which I didn't know I was taking,
but it took me several days to recover from my uninvited guest, and
I used that as an excuse to not blog for several days. Please forgive me.
Our story begins in the wee hours of Thanksgiving morning. I was sound asleep in my bed,
Smooch was sound asleep in her chair, and something was wide awake in the attic.
I had never heard a creature in the attic before, let alone one that sounded
large enough to eat through the plaster in its attempts to get out of wherever it was trapped.
How could it have gotten up there? What could it be? What should I do?
I turned on the lights, expecting to see a hole in the ceiling and gigantic teeth gnawing their way into
my bedroom. I saw nothing. Were the clawing and scratching noises really coming from the attic?
I wasn't sure. I looked in the kitchen pantry. Nobody there. I looked in the bedroom closet.
Nobody there, either. Then I retrieved a stethoscope and listened to an interior wall
that separates my bedroom from the kitchen.
Clearly there was at least a four-foot long creature of some sort stuck in the wall,
trying to find a way out. "Breathe," I told myself. You know the enemy and you can defeat him.
Tomorrow. In the light of day. Meanwhile, I grabbed Smooch, closed the bedroom door,
and we both went to sleep in the guest room.
So Thanksgiving morning, Operation Destroy Whatever Is in the Attic and/or Wall commenced.
Attics are such a good idea in theory. In practice, they're a dumping ground.
If something is irrelevant enough to stash in the attic, it's not worth keeping.
Why don't I ever listen to my own advice?
Anyway, you would think a four-foot long creature with plaster-gnawing teeth
would be easy to find. Not so. Though I did find these teeny tiny paw prints
and the occasional piece of mouse poop.
I deduced that the creature must still be stuck in the bedroom wall, so I tiptoed through the trusses
to the other end of the attic looking for a gaping hole in the insulation,
which would surely help me pinpoint the behemoth's location. I found nothing.
Hmm. Now what do I do? Let Johnny live in the attic for awhile and let him catch it?
Bad idea – the insulation is probably hazardous and besides, whatever it is has to be 10 times Johnny's size.
I wished I'd had one of those big live-trap things that you use to catch badgers and such,
but I didn't, so I made do with what was available.
I didn't hear any scratching or clawing during the night
and was cautiously optimistic when I peeked in the attic Friday morning.
The beast obviously shrunk overnight, but he seemed to like the peanut butter I served
for Thanksgiving dinner.
for Thanksgiving dinner.