2001-07-30 � Squirrel Part Three: Once More Unto the Breach

Sunday morning I woke up, again around 8, to something out of place. I heard noises. Not loud noises, but noises none the less. I tried to ignore them and go back to sleep. I tried. Then the noises got louder. I had to investigate.

The night before, I had been a little nervous, despite my protestations to the contrary, so I went to sleep with the broom beside me in the bed. I wanted easy access incase I needed to do some late night swattin'. I came out of the bedroom and put my ear, softly to the bathroom door. After a minute or two I realized that the noises were not coming from the bathroom. They were coming from the kitchen!

I started to hyperventilate. I can't have that fucking rodent in my kitchen again! It was insufferable. I grabbed the broom and strode boldy out into the living room. I looked into the kitchen and sitting on top of the microwave was the goddamn squirrel holding a bag of Doritos. When it saw me, it tensed its muscles and threw the Doritos on the ground. I started to laugh, cause it looked so "caught in the act."

That's when it bolted for me. I'd had practice and was a little less nervous so I pelted it back with the broom. I felt like Xena Warrior Princess, defending the castle from the interloping monster. He ran into the kitchen to hide. It was clearly panicked that I had spotted it again. It bounced off the walls and screwed up its courage. I had to pee.

It poked its head out again and saw me. This time it just remained still. We were both very still. With no warning it sprung into action and leapt for the corner of the living room where it disappeared into the wall. I ran around to the bathroom and threw open the door. It was nowhere to be found.

I used the facilities and then surveyed the area. The paper bags I had stuffed into the wall were gone. Not just moved. Gone. There were muddy claw prints all over my bathroom counter and the hair and grooming products I keep on the counter were all askew and askance. The throw rugs were bunched up against the door.

Under the counter, at the other end of the radiator pipe was new damage. The plan to keep him contained in the bathroom, clearly did not sit well with him. He simply created his own access to the living room.

I ran around to the livingroom side and checked out the other side. He ate through the baseboards. Not just the Sheetrock, the BASEBOARDS! I hate that thing.

I relaxed a bit and called Michael. I told him it was back. He told me he couldn't believe it.

No, no it's true.

Ok, I'll be right over.

Sunday was a birthday party for a friend. The night before, I had made plans with the boyfriend for breakfast and to go shopping for a present for her, and I had been invited by my friend Chris of the backstage passes to a flea market that morning. The three of us, (Chris, the boyfriend, and myself) were all going to the party together.

The boyfriend arrived just before Michael the maintenance guy. I showed Michael the chewed spots and the poop and the chaos and stuff. He surveyed the damage and came up with our battle strategy. He said we should get some mothballs because they hate them and put them in the wall where he comes in. Then we'll get a board and seal up the hole. We'd replaster once we were sure the squirrel was gone. It seemed silly to do it before. I agreed to the plan and we were off.

He set off to get some supplies, I day dreamed about roasting the fucker on a spit and feeding his cooked squirrel carcass to the crows. So we spent the breakfast time sealing up the wall and laughing about how the box of mothballs says "Do not use for bats and squirrels!" Ha Ha Ha! HEEEEEEE!

Between the board and the mothballs, the maintenance guy assured me the squirrel would be discouraged. He leaned in confidentially, and said, "You know, I've been in knife fights, gun fights... but roaches and rodents bother me." I laughed a little uncomfortable laugh. "If he comes back. I have a trap. We'll catch him live and I'll drive him out to Berlin, NJ so he can't find his way back. And if he happens to find his way out of the trap on the road, well I'd have to back my truck up to see what happened to him."

Michael winked at me. I hated the squirrel a lot, but I'd just contracted to have it exterminated. It was one thing to imagine it, another to have conspired to have it done. I wrestled with that for a while, and then came out on Michael's side. Fuck his disease ridden ass. Besides, we wouldn't need the trap. We had the mothballs.

The boyfriend and I left for our birthday party adventures, certain that it was over. We shook Michael's hand on his way out and thanked him for patching the hole.

But it wasn't over.

To be continued...

Posted at 4:05 p.m.

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  • But I'm Willing to Learn
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