Charlie and the Bug Lady

Charlie has become more and more curious about everything. If it moves, has a smell or has a space under it, it must be investigated – often. It also must be checked out before any human can be near it. He’s one busy little boy.

On a beautiful, late summer day, our bug lady came by to do her spraying in and around the house. She came not long after we first brought Charlie home with us, so I thought he’d be the same this time.

What was I thinking for thinking that?

Not only did he pay attention to her, but he jumped, nose first, right into her parts that shouldn’t be launched at. I grabbed the slip lead and kept him with me until he acted like he didn’t care about her being in the house. In fact, he followed her around quietly (after I told her how to get him to stop trying to play “chicken”). I asked her to let me know if he started bugging her.

She had gone upstairs and Charlie followed. It was quiet, so I went back to working in the kitchen. After about 10 minutes, the bug lady came back down but Charlie was nowhere in sight. She said “I think your dog is in the attic. I called and he wouldn’t come. I’ll just leave the bill on the counter and go spray outside.”

Attic? No one lets Charlie in the attic. Although, it’s a walk-out area and there are no poisons, it’s not dog proof. There’s insulation there that he could get in to and too many boxes for a fella’ like him to ignore. I hustled up the stairs, went into the studio and opened the attic door.

“Charlie… Charlie…”

No answer. No rattle of his dog tags. Nothing.

After about 30 seconds (seemed like more), I heard a faint whine as if he was in trouble. I thought he couldn’t be in the attic... it wouldn’t sound so far away. I went back out and searched for him in the rest of the upstairs rooms. I couldn’t find him. As a last resort, I grabbed Charlie’s rubber chicken, took it back into the attic and shook it. This time I heard him whine again. I also figured out where the sound was coming from and my heart dropped. He had walked through a storage shelving unit that was standing against a wall in a back corner and found a small opening in the attic wall. I didn’t even know it was there until I looked more closely at the area behind the shelves.

He had gotten into the roof eaves over our back porch!

Luckily, the builder had made an access door to that place from another room. I opened the door, got down on my hands and knees and looked to the left – in the direction of the attic wall. There he was, straddled over a 2x4 joist with his feet on the vinyl eaves. I’m sure that the fact they started to bend under his weight gave him the reason to freeze. I tried to call him to me. He wouldn’t budge. Not an inch. The only other option left was to go in after him. I crawled over to him, keeping my legs and hands on the joists. Thankfully, I didn’t have to go too far. I snatched him up, backed out and let him go.

The first thing he did was to shake his body gleefully, grab his chicken and bring it to my feet. All he wanted to do was play.

Life was back to normal.

The bruises on my shins have healed.

Back to Charlie's Page