The Monster Beneath the Couch

it started with a scream.

Mine.

I was walking behind the couch when something suddenly shot out from underneath it and almost ran beneath my foot.

I jumped.

It jumped.

And for one brief moment, neither of us was entirely sure who should be more frightened.

I stood very still, waiting to see what terrifying creature had invaded our home.

Eventually, he appeared.

He was tiny.

And I mean tiny.

The smallest baby gecko imaginable.

He took one look at me and promptly disappeared back underneath the couch.

Now, you might reasonably expect that Maverick, Golden Retriever, Head of Household Security, protector of the family and general supervisor of all things, would immediately come over to investigate.

He did not.

Maverick took one look at the situation and jumped onto the couch beside Paul.

Obviously, to protect Paul.

Paul and I considered removing our unexpected guest, but we were only at intermission in the movie and, frankly, throwing someone out halfway through seemed rude.

So we left him.

Our tiny guest remained beneath the couch.

Maverick did not.

He made a swift retreat to the bedroom and did not return to that part of the house for the rest of the evening.

Apparently, Household Security had closed for the night.

2. Guest Checkout

The following morning, I decided our guest really did need to check out.

The problem was how.

He was so tiny that I didn't want to poke anything beneath the couch and risk hurting him. I needed the California Room doors open and something that could gently encourage him in that direction without actually touching him.

And then I had an idea.

The Milwaukee leaf blower.

Paul took Maverick to his office to console him so he wouldn't have to witness what followed.

I opened the doors.

Our guest resisted checkout.

Quite impressively, actually.

I introduced a little airflow.

He held his ground.

A little more.

Still resisting.

For such a tiny creature, he had remarkable determination.

Eventually, however, the Milwaukee began to win.

Slowly, reluctantly, our guest started moving across the floor toward the open doors.

I followed.

He resisted.

I increased the breeze.

He moved.

Finally, when we reached the threshold, one slightly stronger puff of air flipped him the last little distance outside.

He landed on the mat and looked slightly dazed.

He looked up at me.

I looked down at him.

I think we had an understanding.

I hoped he might go speak to his cousin, or perhaps his uncle, Eric.

Eric is our resident gecko who lives in the hose box outside.

Eric and I have had an understanding for quite some time.

Every day I water the garden, I open the hose box. Eric politely vacates his apartment and patrols the perimeter fence while I use the hose.

When I'm finished, he returns home and resumes Gecko Security for the evening.

It's a perfectly civilized arrangement.

I imagined Eric sitting our young visitor down and explaining the house rules.

Stay outside.

She needs the hose occasionally.

Cooperate, and nobody gets leaf-blown.

Apparently, Fred wasn't listening.

3. The Repeat Guest

Yes.

By this point, our tiny visitor had acquired a name.

Fred.

And apparently Fred had enjoyed his stay.

Because the following day I walked into the living room to grab a snack and there he was.

Not underneath the couch.

Oh no.

Lounging on the rug.

Quite openly.

Apparently waiting for someone to turn on the television and explain how room service worked.

Fred looked at me.

I looked at Fred.

There was a pause.

Then I reached for the Milwaukee.

At this point, something remarkable happened.

Maverick remembered. it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.

The moment the Milwaukee appeared, the Golden Retriever responsible for household security made an immediate and extremely efficient tactical retreat to the bedroom.

No hesitation.

No need for Paul to provide emotional support.

Gone.

Fred, meanwhile, also appeared to experience a sudden flash of recognition.

The Milwaukee started.

And Fred moved.

Good grief, did Fred move.

He flipped himself out through those California Room doors like an athlete attempting to qualify for the LA Olympics.

No resistance.

No prolonged negotiations.

No assisted checkout required.

Straight outside.

So we have made progress.

Fred has learned what the Milwaukee means.

Maverick has learned what the Milwaukee means.

The only remaining issue is that Fred has apparently not learned which side of the door he lives on.

I'm hoping Uncle Eric has another word with him tonight.

Although I'm beginning to suspect Fred isn't lost at all.

I think he likes it here.

🐾 From the Chief Barketing Officer

Mum would like everyone to believe I was frightened.

This is inaccurate.

There was an unidentified creature beneath the couch.

Dad required protection.

I therefore remained beside Dad.

When Mum produced the Milwaukee the following morning, I relocated to the bedroom because somebody needed to secure that end of the house.

Today, Fred returned.

I relocated again.

This was not fear.

It was procedure.

I have subsequently inspected the premises.

From the doorway.

— Maverick

Chief Barketing Officer & Head of Household Security