I've shared stories before about how strange things seem to happen when my hubs is out of town. There was my “Take That, You Low-life Virus” post. And the time I was rescued by Louie da Plumber. So naturally, I’ve come to expect (dread?) those times when hubs announces another business trip.
Recently when he was gone, I was awakened during the night by the sounds of somebody breaking into our house. At least that's what I thought. I shot up in bed. Frozen. Listening, as loud thumps and scratches reverberated directly overhead. After several torturous minutes the sounds subsided. When no killer entered my room, I eventually fell back asleep.
In the bright morning light I thought I’d imagined it all till my son Joshua greeted me with, “Did you hear that thing in the attic last night?”
Great. Apparently some THING had moved into our attic.
Chris returned the next day and I initially forgot to mention it. But that night, the sounds started up. I shoved him awake. “Do you hear that?” I hissed. He mumbled something, turned over and immediately fell back asleep.
"Wake up!” I shoved again.
He mumbled some more but was dead to the world while I lay frozen once again. Listening.
The next morning, I went to rouse Joshua for church only to find rumpled bedclothes but no kid.
"SOMEBODY STOLE JOSH!!!" I shrieked from the top of the stairs.
"No they didn't," came a sleepy reply from down the hall.
I flung open the guest room door to find Josh comfortably tucked into the guest bed.
"What are you doing in here?" I demanded.
"That THING in the attic was thumping so loud last night I couldn't sleep,” he yawned. “I thought it was going to come through the ceiling so I came in here."
"Chris!" I bellowed.
"I heard," he said, suddenly at my side.
He and Josh spent the entire afternoon on our roof, and when they came down Chris looked quite satisfied with himself.
"I figured out how whatever it was got in," he said. “And I’ve completely sealed it up. Nothing else is getting in there."
"My hero!" I cried hugging him. That night, we all went to bed feeling safe and secure. Until around 1:00 a.m. when the sounds started up again. Chris groaned.
"Forget this!" we heard Josh grumble in the darkness as he stumbled his way down the hall to the guest room.
The next day we called in the critter control experts. CC-guy showed up and within an hour he discovered two baby raccoons hidden away in our attic.
He removed them, then handed us a BIG bill commenting, “I see your roof is completely sealed up now so nothing else can get in. Or out.”
"Out?" I said as I handed him a BIG check.
"Well, it's normally best to wait until you're certain all the critters are gone before sealing everything up and making repairs.
"What?!" I looked accusingly at my hero who refused to meet my eyes. “What else could be up there?"
"Well, the mother. But don’t worry,” CC-guy said soothingly. “I didn’t see any sign of her. I'm sure you're fine." He hopped into his CC-mobile and issued a final suggestion. “Unfortunately, you’re outside our trap zone. But to be extra safe, you could put a live trap up there.” Then he was gone.
(Outside their trap zone? What about the BIG check I’d just written!)
Chris immediately bought a live trap, baiting it with some delicious peanut butter and cracker sandwiches.
This is good, I thought.
Then he proceeded to rip away the siding underneath our eave, leaving a big gaping hole.
This is bad, I thought.
"What are you doing?!"
"I'm leaving an escape route for the mother raccoon in case she’s up there."
"Do you seriously think she’s going to attempt to exit that hole and plunge 50 feet to her death?"
"Maybe."
"Doesn’t that hole make a perfect spot for bats to fly in now?"
"Nah, I doubt it."
I didn’t. And I was seriously considering throttling my hero.
At precisely 1:00 a.m. that night we heard the sounds again.
"Aarrrgghhhh!" I buried my head under my pillow and Chris sighed loudly. We heard Joshua stomp his way to the guest room. I had raccoon nightmares all night.
(Tune in next week for the exciting conclusion of "The Great White Hunter.")
Image by: MacJewell
