Woke up about 6 or so this morning and stumbled out to open up the deck door so poor Molly the d*g could go out and potty and so cats could go in and out as they wish... at least until I get up for real and turn on the heat.Some short time later, I hear Shane (the youngest, fixed male DMH kitty) making a funny growly noise near the bed. Sounds like an incipient cat fight, so I hiss, tell 'em to knock it off, and close my eyes again.
Couple hours later, I hear the noise again and decide it's time to get up anyway, so I hiss at Shane wherever he is, get out of bed and head for the bathroom that's just off our bedroom.
Suddenly, there is a great flurry in the corner on the floor near the head of John's side of the bed. I bend down to peer and hot dog, Shane has a 13-striped ground squirrel (aka western version of chipmunk) in the corner under the night stand. QUITE alive, I might add. And extremely annoyed.
They squeak when annoyed.
I wake John (because this will take more than just ME!), open the door to the hallway all the way, make sure no blankets have edges on the floor (live squirrel in MY bed?? oh no!!! not in MY lifetime! The live mouse and the bunny head were quite enough, thankyouverymuch) finish my business in the bathroom, and return. To discover that the squirrel has escaped to elsewhere in the house. Oh boy! A search! Whee! (not.)
Round the corner into the narthex and there are five, count 'em, five cats ranged around, all peering closely at one corner of the room. Shane is the closest, with Jezebel not far away... and she's hissing at anyone else who comes near. (Poor Smokey. Just wanted her breakfast of Fancy Feast!)
Apparently the little guy is holed up under the small bookshelf in there.
I come up with a plan! We can use the dog's food dish (which was still on the counter from the night before) to capture it, in a modified "spider relocation system". What can we use to slide underneath? Cardboard won't work. Oh yea! There's that piece of veneer that came off the cupboards a while ago... it's thin, and very sturdy. And here's the Swiffer with a nice long handle useful for herding it.
Tools are ready. The squirrel is squeaking non-stop from under the shelves. The cats are annoyed that we've moved them. Molly wants to see what's going on, oh boy! Go away, Molly.
John's on his knees facing the corner with the dog dish at the ready. I have the Swiffer and am gently trying to herd it. But I can't get a good angle. John takes the Swiffer because he can SEE the darned thing. It's scared to death and doesn't want to move.
We manage to scootch it out and get the dog dish over it. We manage to sliiiiiiide the veneer piece under the dish. We manage to pick it all up without losing the squirrel. (OK, JOHN actually does all this, I'm offering assistance by way of commentary and advice... and HEY! I do put away the Swiffer!)
The rest is sort of anti-climactic. John takes the assembly down to the yard off the deck and lets the little guy go. We keep the cats inside for a while, to their annoyance (until the Heat God came on). Molly tried to investigate but we called her back. John reported that the little guy had a pretty torn up tail but otherwise seemed to be intact (Shane, ya gotta learn to kill 'em if you're gonna catch 'em.)
And we have cats because........?
Because we WUV dem. Even with all this mishegas.
Copyright © Deborah Ruppert
November 7, 2007
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