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I could not help but notice something more than a little out of the ordinary on the floor of that room. There was a long line of peanuts, running single-file from the patio door (the very same one that Gus was looking into) to the sofa. This is where I encountered my wife, The Queen B. She had a sheepish look on her face. I looked down at the peanuts again and she began to explain their presence.
It seems that she had opened the door to let Gus out onto the deck for one of his 272 daily forays there. As he exited the house, he surprised a chipmunk that was lounging on the deck. The chippy let out a frightened “Cheep!” and with a tail with all of its hairs standing on end, the tiny rodent bolted to what it thought was safety. In other words, it ran the opposite way that Gus was moving. The chipmunk ran inside the house through the still open patio door. This action did not go unnoticed by Gus. He turned quickly and lunged for the chipmunk. The Queen B. worried about the safety of the friendly chipmunk, slammed the glass door shut just in time to allow Gus to smash his face against it. The chipmunk, intent on survival made a beeline for the sofa and refused to come out from under it despite my wife’s threats and pleadings.
So The Queen B. concocted a plan to lure the chipmunk out from under the couch by tempting it with a line of 239 peanuts. She thought that this would be a bonanza for a peanut-deprived chipmunk and would be an offer it could not refuse.
This was where I came in. Her plan had failed.
Gus was moved to the porch. The patio door was opened wide. The sofa was moved and the poor chipmunk was chased around and around the house by my wife and me until it bolted out the door for freedom.
I worry that the next time this happens—and it will—that my lovely bride will dispense with the peanut routine and will try putting Crisco on the chipmunk’s head in order to get him out.
It’s just a matter of time.
Just another one of Al's great articles from our December 2006 issue...
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