2001-07-30 � Squirrel Part One: Clear and Present Danger

It seems lately that this diary has become a chronicle of my battles against nature. As you may have read, I recently had a run in with a hornet. Let me begin by saying that I am not one of these people who wants to pave the planet or anything. I love being outside and I like trees and flowers and cows and all that shit. However, I hate nature in my house.

This past weekend I have lived out a Clark Grizzwold movie. Let me begin at the beginning.

Last Thursday I was working at my desk and I heard a scratching in the wall. I assumed I had a mouse, and made a mental note to buy a trap.

Now, I should add here, that I am not unaccustomed to having animals wake me on the weekend. I like to sleep late, and when I've had pets they've always been fond of regular meal times regardless of the (largely artificial) weekend/weekday distinction. I've had pets for 25 of my 27 years and it's only been since I moved away from home to go to law school that I've been petless. Let me make this very clear. I CURRENTLY HAVE NO PETS.

Last Saturday at about 8:00 a.m. I was sleeping. The weather has been nice lately, so I've had the windows open. I have screens on all the windows, and all the screens are intact. I felt something move across my chest, very quickly. This was enough to rouse me, and it felt oddly familiar. In my groggy state I opened my eyes to look for my cat, Preston, WHO IS HALF A CONTINENT AWAY WITH MY SISTER, I turned my head, and looked over at the window.

There, hanging from the screen was a squirrel. A full grown, rabies laden, buck-fuckin-toothed squirrel. He hung on the screen quietly contemplating me. And as I came out of my sleep induced haze long enough to realize he was ON THE INSIDE, I started to scream like a woman.

Have you ever seen those old movies where the women spot a mouse in a kitchen and they all scream and grab their skirts and scream and scream and climb on tables and scream and somebody male comes in and the women scream and do a pee dance and scream? I totally acted that out. I was in my boxers clutching the sheet and doing a pee dance on my bed.

This unnerved the squirrel. He darted back and forth for a while and I screamed more. And every time he'd get close to the bed I'd scream louder and that would arrest his progress and he'd run away from the sound I was making and smash into a wall, and then climb the wall. And then that would panic me so I'd throw pillows at it, and he'd fall off the wall and run aimlessly just trying to get away.

Finally he ran out of the bedroom. So I chased it into the living room. I grabbed a broom from the hall closet on the way. That's when I heard it in the kitchen. THE KITCHEN! I'm not a neat freak, but there are two rooms in my house that are always very clean. The bathroom where I wash myself, and the kitchen where I prepare my food. That fucking rodent was in my kitchen!

A little aside here. Squirrels are carriers of rabies. The treatment for rabies is a weekly shot in your stomach for ten weeks. My biggest concern was, therefore, keeping it from panicking so much that it decided to bite me. Nobody want's unnecessary medical treatments. With needles. In your belly. Nobody.

I backed into the bedroom and raised the screens. Then I walked quietly into the living room and opened the patio door. Slowly. Quietly. Oh, I saw it in it's hiding place on the chair under my dining table, but I wanted to remove the barriers I'd erected between me and nature and back off. I'd hoped that he would just bolt for freedom, but that was wishful thinking.

He considered me, and then sprung (that's right he jumped) off the chair and flew half way across the living room in my general direction. I had been standing with my broom crouched like a goalie. When it got near enough, I smacked it with the broom and sent it back toward the table. It was very fast. Those fuckers got speed. Anyway, this startled and unnerved it so it ran back into the kitchen.

I waited. I could hear it skidding to a stop on the linoleum and running headlong into fixtures. It came back around the corner and charged me again, so I smacked it with the broom. We engaged in this dance for a while until I got in a good shot that bounced the goddamn thing out the door and onto the balcony. He ran off the patio and into a tree across the courtyard.

I collapsed onto the floor, my hands shaking and my heart racing. I took a moment to compose myself and got up to inspect the kitchen. Not much out of place, the rugs need to be straightened. Nothing else visibly disturbed anywhere in the apartment. No droppings.

I got ready for the day, after all, I was going to meet Willie Nelson, and Hot Tuna (Jefferson Airplane) that evening. I needed to be shaved and showered and generally presentable. I tried not to think about being awoken by a squirrel on my chest. It was better that way. Besides, it was all over and I'd won, right? He's out in nature, and my house is rodentless again!

I had a bowl of cereal as I finished dressing. I was behind schedule because I'd spent an hour in mortal combat with Rocky the flying squirrel. I put the bowl, with the left over milk, on the counter and left for the day.

I would discover when I returned sometime late that night, that it was not over. Not by a long shot.

To be continued...

Posted at 12:34 p.m.

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