Theory No. 3

CHAPTER 9

Once more, it was time for Trevor.

It had now been two weeks since our last effort to seal the last openings -- and nearly a month since the first sounds of our upstairs neighbor. And now Trevor was back.

"I have looked over every square foot of this house," he said. "I don't know what I'm missing. But let's look again."

Around we went, inspecting the north side, then our east-facing backyard, then the south and back out to the west and the front of the house when Trevor offered this: "You have to be kidding me." It had become a familiar refrain.

Only this time, Trevor was staring at a vine that runs up the front of our house, bunching near the roof. "I bet there's a vent back there," he said.

And up he went. "Yup, there's a hole in the vent," he said, making a circle with his fingers. About the size of a quarter.

Trevor offered up THEORY No. 3: It has been coming and going through this vent and now, we have finally sealed off its last entry or exit. As he sealed the vent, Trevor looked pained on his face.

"Are you OK?"

"Yeah, just a little sore. I'm training to be an ultimate fighter."

Aha! Oh, we may not come from the same place, Trevor and I, but we can connect on something. Oh, I may be too weak to pop my own attic door and even look to see if a trap is set (something Niki has had no problem doing during this ordeal by the way since the false trap event) and I may be too weak to even comprehend how someone would want to do this job, but I do work at a sports magazine and we do have a story on ultimate fighting coming up. I shared this bit of information with him and we talked for a moment about TV ratings and arena attendance until Trevor snapped me back to reality.

"OK, here's the deal. You're going to hear increased activity over the next few days. Prepare for it. And then, in two or three days, it will have no choice but to go for my food on the traps." We were back to the three rules: Listen, smell, call.