Attic Dweller
by
Wendy BooydeGraaff
We had bees in the attic above the garage. We heard their buzzing in the southeast corner, through the wall to the master bedroom. A swarm’s low hum, droning their stingers into the aging wood siding. (I needed somewhere to call mine. A shelter. I had a drill.) We didn’t want bees. We put a bug bomb up there, alongside the christening dress and the plastic kitchen. By the time grandkids come along, the toxins will be gone. (The smell. The fumes. I could hardly inhale. Exhaling was difficult, too. I wrapped myself in the old clothing and created a filter for my breath. Eventually, the lightheadedness passed.)
We had mice in the attic. We heard their scritching—the tearing of old boxes to make their nests. (So much stuff. I broke down a few cardboard boxes, and created a little privacy on the wide rafters, some walls and a floor.) Soon they’ll be in the walls. We set out traps, little pieces of cheese, and hunks of peanut butter. (I didn’t see it. Snap. What a time to take off my boots. The cheese tasted good, a little flattened. I found the peanut butter, too. No crackers.) Traps remained empty—the little buggers figured out how to steal the cheese without springing the trap. Some of the traps were sprung, but no little bodies. Smart. Let’s see them outwit BoBo. (I almost didn’t see him, but his eyes glowed. The moon caught the sleekness of his fur. He’s beautiful, just what I needed, a companion. He likes the home I’ve made, bats around the paper mice I make for him, and curls up against me at nap time. I call him Midnight.)
Still some scratching, but it’s probably BoBo at the litterbox we put up there. Ah, the beauty of a good night’s sleep, knowing you’ve taken care of it. A good day’s work. Outsmarted the wild. (When the rumbling begins, I know the Ambien has set in. They won’t wake for anything. There’re eggs in the fridge, leftover potatoes, and a little spinach. Smells so good frying in the pan. Some people have so much they can’t keep track of it. It takes longer than you think before they start to suspect. I know the signs. The fridge will be clean. Little marker marks on the jars of spaghetti sauce. An uncut loaf of banana bread, cooling on the rack. The smell is overwhelming, irresistible. That night I take the banana bread, Midnight, and my drill. There’s another home for me out there. I only have to find it.)
We had mice in the attic. We heard their scritching—the tearing of old boxes to make their nests. (So much stuff. I broke down a few cardboard boxes, and created a little privacy on the wide rafters, some walls and a floor.) Soon they’ll be in the walls. We set out traps, little pieces of cheese, and hunks of peanut butter. (I didn’t see it. Snap. What a time to take off my boots. The cheese tasted good, a little flattened. I found the peanut butter, too. No crackers.) Traps remained empty—the little buggers figured out how to steal the cheese without springing the trap. Some of the traps were sprung, but no little bodies. Smart. Let’s see them outwit BoBo. (I almost didn’t see him, but his eyes glowed. The moon caught the sleekness of his fur. He’s beautiful, just what I needed, a companion. He likes the home I’ve made, bats around the paper mice I make for him, and curls up against me at nap time. I call him Midnight.)
Still some scratching, but it’s probably BoBo at the litterbox we put up there. Ah, the beauty of a good night’s sleep, knowing you’ve taken care of it. A good day’s work. Outsmarted the wild. (When the rumbling begins, I know the Ambien has set in. They won’t wake for anything. There’re eggs in the fridge, leftover potatoes, and a little spinach. Smells so good frying in the pan. Some people have so much they can’t keep track of it. It takes longer than you think before they start to suspect. I know the signs. The fridge will be clean. Little marker marks on the jars of spaghetti sauce. An uncut loaf of banana bread, cooling on the rack. The smell is overwhelming, irresistible. That night I take the banana bread, Midnight, and my drill. There’s another home for me out there. I only have to find it.)
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