"A Rose By Any Other Name..."

My beautiful wife has over the twenty-five years of our marriage displayed many endearing gifts, qualities and talents that I have come to greatly and lovingly appreciate. Two of her most ever present gifts is being blessed with a profound and overly-heightened sense of smell and hearing. Her olfactory and auditory sensory perceptions would give a full-blooded Kentucky tracking hound and an Alaskan eagle a serious run for their money.

There is hardly a week that goes by that I don't hear the following words of concern, "Do you smell that!?!," or "Do you hear that!?! My usual (and honest) answer is, "No." That's not to discount the fact that what she smells and/or hears isn't indeed a reality. It's just that I am, as a member of the male species, apparently wired differently. I suppose that is why Fathers make lousy Mothers. Mothers are blessed (some would say cursed) with the ability to know what their child is doing even when they are completely out of sight. With Fathers, if the child is out of sight, we forget we even have a child.

Judi's acute hearing came to the fore again Friday evening when she came into the living room where I was engaged in the multitask of reading a book while keeping track of the baseball game on TV. "Do you hear that!?!" "No." "I hear scratching noises in the attic." "Congratulations." I think we've got rats again." "Okay." "Don't you want to come listen?" "Not particularly." "Well, I'm telling you that it's a rat and it's making all kinds of scratching sounds." "Gotcha. I've got traps up there and with any luck the next sound you will hear is a loud snap." "I don't know if I will be able to get to sleep with all that noise." "I think we'll be safe for the night. Our two fearless cats will protect us." "What good are they going to do if they're down here and the rat is in the attic?" "Rats have a sixth sense about stuff like that. It wouldn't dare come down here with cats roaming around." Judi tromped back towards the bedroom muttering something about my lack of urgency.

I never doubted that Judi's assumption about the nosies emanating from our attic was indeed a rat, most likely of the Fruit Rat variety. We've had them before, but not very often since blight killed our two orange trees in the side yard. Still, this is Florida and with the summer's heat these creatures seek refuge, especially in attics that have air conditioning ducts that they can chew into and enjoy a constant breeze of cool air. I was confident that my numerous traps, baited with irresistible bits of Butterfingers candy bars and large enough to capture a bull elephant, would eventually do the trick. I checked the attic on Saturday morning. No evidence of a rat's fatal misstep. Saturday evening came and Judi again entered the living room to announce, "The rat is back...but it's making a bonking sound." "A bonking sound?" "Yes...it sound's like it is dragging something around." "Maybe it's its luggage," I offered. "Not funny," she retorted. "I'll check the attic again tomorrow after church and see if it left any kind of comment card." Off she trudged back to the bedroom muttering again under her breath.

No sooner had we walked in the back door from church yesterday when the first words she uttered was, "Do you smell that!?!" "No." "Well, I do and it smells musty." "Could be my socks," I suggested. She didn't laugh. "There's a dead rat in the attic, and I'll bet you it's caught in one of your traps. That's what was bonking around last night. It was trying to get loose." I'll go check." Sure enough, after a little scouting around, I located the now very dead rodent that had indeed appeared to have struggled with obviously no success to extricate itself from the trap. "Well? I heard her inquiry from down below. "Was I right?" "Partically," I replied. "There's a tiny little overnight bag with a note stuck in that says, 'Thanks for your hospitality.' Yes, you were right. Stay put and I'll toss it right down!" Screams...

Later that evening we decided to go out for a bite to eat. Upon starting up the car, Judi said, "Do you hear that!?! "No." "Neither do I. I just want to keep you on your toes. And, speaking of toes, you need to change your socks!" She's a laugh riot, my Judi.