I'm having a nice relaxing shower, when the usual thing happens. I start hearing things going on in the house that mean trouble. I hear dishes in the sink rattling. I yell, "SOX, GET OUT OF THE SINK!" Usually, that would do it, I'd yell once and the rattling would stop. Not this time.
Since I have four cats, you may wonder how I know which one is the culprit. Oh, they all have their little quirks. Sox likes to get up in the sink, and sniff the fresh air coming in the two inch opening of the kitchen window. He just can't help himself. And it never seems to matter what's in the way. Dishes in the sink, vases arranged nicely on the window sill, none of it matters. None of it exists. He just knows he can get his nose to a little bit of fresh air. Did I mention he's a bit of a tank? He's huge, and he just crashes over dishes to get to the outside air that is like crack to him.
This time my yelling doesn't work. At all. In fact the rattling got a lot louder, as if someone were stirring the dishes with a baseball bat. I didn't know what's happening, but nothing good, I'm guessing. There goes my shower.
I'm out and dripping wet, when I hear more pandemonium, this time in the living room. Commotion is not unusual in my household at all, in fact it's pretty much expected. But there is something different about this. On a scale of one to ten, five being normal, this is more like an eight. (an eight can mean that someone rung the doorbell, which is a pretty serious incident.)
I get my towel, and step out of the bathroom just in time to see Bitzy, my black and white Rat Terror, jumping straight up in the air! And this is not the normal Bitzy jump - she sometimes aims for the top of the couch and misses (I hear a thud, she hits the floor). This is some kind of circus jump, where she is up near the ceiling! The ceiling! My dog can fly now? What on earth . . . ? And not just Bitzy, but the four cats are all worked up too. They are all puffed up and running back and forth frantically, all eyes on . . . the drapes? What do animals care about drapes? Oh GEEZ.
At the top of the drapes, there it is. A SQUIRREL is running back and forth for all it's worth! The squirrel is in a world of panic, and moving so fast I can barely see it, which is what they do when they get stuck in your house. They don't stop and think about how they should get out, they just go as fast as they can to avoid being caught, and possibly dismembered by the raging cats and dog they've blundered into. And to be fair, they don't have the biggest brains.
I, on the other hand, completely freeze while I ponder what to do first. I should probably put clothes on. Yes. I will put on clothes. I don't remember getting dressed, but evidently I have. The next thing I know, I'm back in the living room, watching the squirrel run laps across the top of my sheer drapes. He's going so fast, I expect them to disintegrate in a matter of seconds, and they will just drop to the floor, like something out of a
Roadrunner cartoon. He looks just like a little buzz saw, going back and forth, his little legs a blur. I am imagining buzz saw noises.
I should have seen this coming, I really should have. There have been days when I've opened the curtain behind my computer to see a squirrel chattering at me, and glaring at me as if I'd murdered his cousin. It's not as if there's an actual ledge or anything for them to stand on, either. They just hang there, at an impossible angle, impatiently waiting for you to let them in. I've seen them walk straight up and down walls too, which I find as unnatural as vampires. And yes, I'd seen them at the kitchen window as well. It just hadn't occurred to
me that they would actually come inside.
Okay, I'm dressed, what am I supposed to do next? Believe it or not, I won't panic, because believe it or not, this has happened to me before. I have had a panicked, crazy-ass squirrel running loose in my house. And what did I do before? I left a window open so it could escape. Okay, that is what I will do again. But I had less pets that last time. If I do that, what will prevent all five of my rabid pets from following it right out the door? I will have to gather up the dog and cats and isolate them from the squirrel. I'm going for Bitzy the dog first,
mostly because I'm tired of listening to her insane yapping. What a racket that dog can make.
It's amazing how hard it can be to pick up a nine pound dog. She weighs practically nothing, yet she is filled with so much adrenaline, I might as well try to lift my own body weight, and drag it into another room. And there is no reasoning with her. Bitzy, stop it!! Calm down!! Pshaw. I might as well be talking to the dining room table. At least it would appear to be listening. I grab up her squirming body and wrestle her out of the room. I can't even walk straight - she is twisting and turning like a high speed washing machine, her stiff little giraffe
legs bicycling wildly, and still barking her head off. I put her in Alli's room, (which actually is Bitzy's room, we just call it Alli's room) and shut the door. Whew. That should calm things down considerably.
HAHAHAHA. I am left with four hysterical hissing cats, and one traumatized squirrel. Since Bodhi is the smallest and easiest kitty to catch, and actually likes being picked up under normal circumstances, I'll go for her first. All of the cats have formed a circle, growling and hissing. Mostly they are under the table, so I have to move the heavy, screeching furniture. (This does nothing to improve the squirrel's disposition) I get Bodhi fairly easily, but she insists on being carried over my shoulder, and then digs her claws in to climb over onto
my back. I've never understood her reasoning about this. Once she's on my back, she's upside down, and has to dig in even more to hang on. I manage to pry her loose, which sounds a little like velcro, and stick her in the bathroom.
But darn, I need to give the squirrel a way out, in case he does try to make a run for it. I open the front door, and the storm door. Surely all that fresh air will be irresistible to a squirrel. Then the storm door slowly. starts. to. close. itself. For crying out loud! It's one of those handy doors that closes itself every time, so you don't have to. What genius had come up with that idea? I need to prop it open with something. I open the front coat closet and am faced with the mountain of things that inhabit the closet. There has to be something that will
work in this mess. A hiking boot, that should do it. I have to yank for a little bit, but I get t out from under a pile of stuff, and stick it in the front door.
Nooooooo, the door is still closing! And it's mangling my boot in the process! Surely the boot will regain it's shape someday? The things I worry about when there is a squirrel fast-forwarding around my dining room. Okay, the door is open, maybe I can sort of steer him out of the house with a broom? I get the broom, and by this time, he has dropped down to the window sill. Let me just say this: neither a broom or anything else can
be used to herd a squirrel. He's about a foot from the floor by then, within easy reach of the cats. He stops to rest for a second in the corner, his little heart pounding. He looks terrified, and he's so little! Such a wee thing, he must be a baby. I feel really bad for him, and start baby talking to him about how he just needs to calm down and go outside.
Easy for me to say, when he is surrounded by cats that are all four or five times his size. Time to round up some more cats. I get Punji the Bengal, who is the oldest and least likely to put up a fight. But she is heavy, dang, and her lack of struggling makes her dead weight. I put her in the bathroom with whoever else was in there. When I come back out, the squirrel has jumped up onto my mantel. Oh great! There goes everything up there, I think, framed pictures, glass vases and candle holders. But to my amazement, when he runs back and
forth, he doesn't disturb a thing. It's a very sophisticated obstacle course, and he has no trouble navigating at all. He is clearly smarter than all my cats put together.
I decide to open the back door as well, and give him two easy escape routes. The back door thankfully stays open when you tell it to. I still have two more cats to capture and isolate. I'll go for Lily, just out of process of elimination. Sox is more than a little bit psycho, and I would just as soon put him off till last, out of general principle. Maybe the squirrel could just leave first - Sox isn't too smart, so surely the silly rodent could come up with a plan to get around him. Got Lily. I put her in my bedroom while she voices her opinion loudly, in a meow
that sounds like a cross between a goat and Stevie Nicks. I have to hold her straight out in front of me to keep the claws away. Has the baby squirrel left yet? Nope, he's back on the top of the drapes. So, I will occupy myself with the last cat, the big guy Sox, also known as Shredder. It's always safest to pick him up from behind so he doesn't see me coming. Otherwise he would just chew my arms off. I've got him under the
armpits and picked up, facing away from me. I don't touch him anywhere else, because that just sets him off. For some reason, the underarm carry seems to subdue him. I've seen it in a mirror, too, and it's the most hilarious thing, all four of his legs splayed out of his meatloaf body, all poufed out like a puffer fish. Into my bedroom he goes, and I am all the while shouting encouraging baby talk to the squirrel.
Whoa! Out the corner of my eye I see the squirrel zoom into the kitchen. This could be really great, couldn't it, he could go out the back door! But what if he didn't? I didn't really see him leave, now did I? Darn it, how the heck am I going to know for sure? I will just wait, that's what I'll do. I'll leave the doors open, and fresh air will billow through the house. I'll enjoy airing out the house immensely. Hmm. How long would a squirrel hide in a house if he thinks he's safe, I wonder. He could be in the laundry room, a no man's land of appliances and a
boiler and mops and brooms. I go in and make a ruckus, to try and flush him out. Nothing.
Well then. I will just spend the afternoon enjoying the fresh air until I have to leave. I hope desperately that he isn't making a nest inside my couch. Because a couch would be the perfect place for a nest, what with the stuffing and all. Later, as I lock up the house, the pets still quarantined, I look over and see a huge gray cat
sniffing curiously at my house. Well! Isn't this just dandy! While I'm worried about one squirrel, all manner of neighborhood strays, hoards of other squirrels, and yes, even a snake could waltz right into my house. Birds could have flown in! I could have a regular Hitchcock movie! There is no way I could watch both doors, now could I? I've for sure let in a ton of spiders.
