Santa Came Early

There I was, enjoying my after-breakfast coffee. The fire was roaring, the coffee was delicious and I was gently drifting in and out of sleep to the smooth jazz of The Philadelphia Experiment. There were some strange noises coming from the fireplace, but they could easily have been the sound of steam leaving a log. I got up to fetch another cup of coffee and in the time it took me to walk to the kitchen all hell broke loose.

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Santa Busts In

I booked it out of the kitchen thinking a huge log rolled out onto the rug or a shower of sparks was slowly enpolka-dotting my rug. Nope, a squirrel had apparently been sitting atop the damper in my chimney and the heat got to be too much for him. How he lasted that long I'll never know, but he did. The cats had him cornered behind the couch, and he was slowly shredding my curtains in an attempt to flee. All I could think was "F&(k, how the hell am I gonna catch this damn thing?"

I grabbed a cardboard box, which quickly proved to be useless. I then upgraded to the lid from my cake carrier which at least had a handle. I chased the squirrel all around the downstairs and every time I'd have him cornered he'd book ass into another room. The cats watched in amusement.

Finally I started closing off rooms to contain him, which then forced him upstairs. Thank GOD my bedroom door was shut because as I chased him hither and thither, I found he had a bad foot and was leaving bloody footprints everywhere. Sweet!


So he went upstairs alongside Nano, the eldest and most fearful cat in the house, into the spare bedroom. I closed the door and spent the next 20 minutes or so trying to trick him into a clear plastic tub. Over and over he would elude the bin, leaving more footprints around the room.

Afraid that he might try to hide in one of my tubs filled with running clothes, I closed them up, stacked them in a corner and returned to the chase. He had found his way to the top of a futon frame I had standing on end, and was tending to his game foot. The picture to the right is of his perch.

Eventually I was able to trap him beneath the plastic tub, slide the lid underneath and lock him in. If you've never seen a frightened squirrel with a bloody foot trapped in a clear plastic tub, it's not a pleasant sight. I carried him downstairs and out the door as quickly as I could, opened the lid and set him free. I hope he makes it, poor little guy.


Now, you may recall there was mention of blood. I filled the bloody squirrel tub with Murphy's Oil Soap and water, and set to work cleaning up the trails. The bedroom upstairs seemed to be the worst, and as I moved things around to clean up, I just kept finding more and more.

Finally as I was cleaning the last of it behind the futon frame I noticed a little blob. "Is that what I think it is?" Yup, while I was stacking the tubs and preparing to launch my last attack he copped a squat on my furniture. You can even see the tell-tale squirrel ass hair he left behind.

Son of a bitch!

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So how's your day going?


Over and Out,
Old Coot