Squirrel Story

Well, a friend of mine informed me that I need to be writing in my blog more often than I had intended.  Since it’s the weekend and I’m not feeling particularly witty or inspired, I’ve scrounged up an old classic to keep ya’ll satisfied.  So, here for your enjoyment, from six years ago, The Squirrel Story:

   There has been a squirrel.  A cute little red one.  Around the outside of the house.  Nevertheless…(is that one word?  Cool.  I’m gonna use that more) people have been freaking out about it.  Ruthy seems convinced that the squirrel is going to get in the house and scratch around in her walls at night so she can’t sleep.  Mom is certain that it will chew the antenna and then crawl under the floor and die right under the living room so she’ll have to light candles to rid the smell.  Dad agrees with all of the above statements, but aside from all of that, he really doesn’t care what the squirrel is capable of, just so he has a chance to be some kind of Rambo squirrel hunter for a day.

   To my exceeding delight, any attempts of squirrel murder on Dad’s part have proved fruitless thus far.  It all started a few days ago.  Maybe it was after we came home from church Sunday, I don’t remember.  I just remember Dad’s reaction to the first sighting: “Aahhhhhhhhhh there’s a squirrel in the feeder.”  The ‘aahhhhh’ representing something between hunter’s delight, homeowner’s exasperation, and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

    I have been uneasy for the residing wild critters on our property ever since I unwittingly assisted in the assassination of two hapless raccoons who had taken up residence on our property a few months ago.  I came into the house after dumping some old veggies in the apple orchard after dark, and I made a comment to Dad that was probably something like, “Coons in a tree”.

   I was then ordered outside, toting the heavy-duty flashlight in my right hand, whilst my left hand was occupied with the task of trying to stop my lower lip from trembling.  Anyway, like the traitorous wretch to the animal world I turned out to be, I held the flashlight steady while Dad blew away two unsuspecting New York citizens who couldn’t help being raccoons any more than I could help watching in fascination their bloodied, writing corpses twist about on the ground just seconds after the rifle shots cracked resoundingly through the valley on that sad sad night.

   Thanks to burn barrel waste disposal technology, the scent of coon wafted over Spring Valley Farm for days after the unfortunate episode.  …Now, needless to say, when I see raccoons these days, I run at them screaming, “Run, run for your very lives!!”  I bet you didn’t know raccoons have eyebrows.  I bet you’ve never had a raccoon raise its eyebrows at you, either.

   Uh, anyway, yes, the squirrel.  Dad has been driven to distraction trying to catch this thing.  We were watching a suspenseful thriller the other night (The Village, good movie), and at a climactic moment, Mom looks over, and Dad is laying on the couch, gazing up at the ceiling.  When asked about his strange behavior, we were told he was thinking about “how he was gonna catch that squirrel”.

   Needless to say, a cloud of unrest blankets the house of late, and until Dad gets the squirrel, it will not go away.  Well, today at work Dad borrowed a live trap from someone.  I rrreallly didn’t want to know what he was planning to do with the squirrel after he caught it alive.  Really didn’t want to know.  Didn’t.  At all.  The heinous occurrence with the coons had me on edge all day, so when Dad finally sat the family down and started with, “Now.” (all of Dads “important” speeches start with “Now”).

“Now.  About the squirrel…” (gleefully rubbing his hands at this point).

I don’t want to know, I don’t want to know…

“I set the trap.”

(Its hard to glare when your eye is twitching…)

“You have two choices.”

What? Choices? Me?  This doesn’t follow mandatory lecture format…

“I can either take the squirrel in the cage and drown it in the tub…”

(shudder…oh you sick sick man)

“Or. I can give the cage to you and you can take the squirrel out in the pines…and I mean way out in the pines, and let him go.  He should stay out there, he’s got pine seeds to eat…”

   By now I’m not listening anymore because the sun has come out from behind the clouds and the life of a happy little squirrel is going to be spared.  Oh joyous celebration!  “Happy squirrels, yes, happy squirrels there’ll be!” (That’s a song, only the lyrics have been slightly altered).

   Of course, Ruthy is standing there mumbling, “Drown it…”

   So ends the squirrel story I had to tell.  So tomorrow, hopefully in the morning so I can get out of my history test, I will bundle up and trek out to the pine trees and turn loose a happy squirrel in the forest where he belongs with the other happy squirrels.