Eek, a squirrel

As we all know I love stories about rodents. Whether it’s the terrifying C.H.A.D. above me, horrible flying rats assaulting me, or just lovable, stupid possums getting squished by me, rodent stories are gold.

I went to my parents’ house yesterday to have lunch and take advantage of their non-coin-operated laundry facilities. When I arrive, my mom tells me that they had a little unexpected visitor the night before. One of them went down into the basement (which is finished) and saw that something had clawed up some woodwork around the windows. Really clawed it up. They quickly decide that this couldn’t be the work of a cat (and besides the cats are outside). Then they see it.

Crouched behind the blinds on the window sill behind their computer table is a grey squirrel. He must have climbed down the chimney flue that my dad left open. They open the door to the outside hoping they can flush him into the yard, but as soon as they move, he bolts for the other side of the basement.

The squirrel runs into a smaller room in the basement where my dad keeps all his wine-making equipment and treadmill. They close the doors to that room and my dad puts on gloves. I guess he’s intending to grab the little bastard and throw him out. They go in the room and can’t find the squirrel anywhere.

They release a cat in the room and the cat doesn’t do anything.

So they go get Kinch, our 80-pound Weimaraner, and put him in the room. He finds the squirrel in half a second. It’s hiding beneath a big metal shelf unit. They have to pull the dog out of there because they figure things could get really messy with him around.

Then, mom leaves dad in the room to get the squirrel. Dad told me later that he tried to think of all kinds of ways to trap the squirrel, throw a box over him or something, to get him out. But the squirrel starts running, and my dad has no chance. At one point, the squirrel jumps about three feet in the air, hits the wall, springs off the wall into the blinds on the window, then springs off of that towards my dad and hits him in the chest. I would have crapped myself.

My dad realizes that his worn out, leather work gloves were going to be no protection against this freaked out little critter.

Once the squirrel hits the ground it runs for cover. It zips right behind a box that is leaning against the wall, his hind leg and tail still exposed.

My dad thinks quickly and decides it’s now or never. The box is tall and narrow but contains another shelf unit. The shelves and metal frame in it probably weigh 40 or 50 pounds.

Dad lets out one ferocious kick at the box and crushes the squirrel against the wall.

The hind leg wiggles.