THUMP – pitter, patter, pitter, patter
THUMP – pitter, patter, pitter, patter, pitter, patter, pitter, patter, pitter, patter.That is what I hear EVERY morning about this time. SOMETHING is living in my attic, directly above my office. Could it be the two squirrels who have started to ransack my bird feeder, chasing away my cool little bluejays and robins? Is it the neighborhood possum, coming home after a long night's prowl? Whatever it is, I think it's getting fatter – no doubt off my birdseed. If I don't find out soon, it might get stuck. In this Texas summer heat, they won't last long in my attic. I can only go up there after dark – or I'll melt.Maybe tomorrow I'll sneak outside and try to perch myself near the rooftop. Maybe I'll get a glimpse of my furry squatter.THUMP – pitter, patter, pitter, patter, pitter, patter, pitter, patter, pitter, patter.