We came home one day to a lamp knocked over and large dust bunnies in the middle of the kitchen floor. After checking the house to ensure nothing was missing and no strangers were hiding behind the shower curtain, we tried to ignore it.
As we start dinner a flash of black fur races by. I turn to see a frozen-guilty-looking-squirrel that has come out from under the refrigerator bringing additional dust bunnies as his back up army. He seems honestly surprised to find me there. His tiny nose begins moving, probably smelling the sloppy joe’s I am making, perhaps hinting that he and his troop would like to stay for dinner. I silently point him out to Dan not wanting to say anything rude in front of him because he seems so jumpy and unpredictable, like a squirrel with a very bad coke habit.
I realize the only way to get rid of him was to stab him with a nearby paring knife, which means the loss of the utensil, but am willing to make the sacrifice in order to remove this intruder from our home. While raising the knife slowly over the squirrel like a scene from a horror movie, Dan grabs the broom and opens the front and back doors. Dan, the committed pacifist, has miraculously found a way to both eject the uninvited dinner guest while sparing the squirrels life. After some chasing and running back and forth, the squirrel flies out the door and I secure the locks just to be safe.
After our first encounter with the squirrel, we began to notice him running onto the porch as we leave the house, like he’s waiting for us to get out of his place. Since he does not have a key, he can only peek inside the windows or relax under the shade of the porch. His hesitation waned and he started sprinting onto the porch to settle into his favorite position, flat on his belly stretching out his arms and legs as if he were mimicking a tiny rug someone would make from squirrel skin.
Dan named him Buck. Buck enjoys the vegetable garden behind the house, especially the tomatoes. He sits on top of the grill, speedily nibbling through the shiny-red-cherry-tomatoes. I suppose he gets a whiff of charcoal and burgers and envisions a freshly grilled burger complete with fresh tomato topping. You can see Buck has that kind of sharp imagination. Instead of using the garbage disposal, we now pass leftovers onto Buck.
For Halloween, we had several small pumpkins on the front porch perfect for Buck’s petite build. Dan carved a jack o' lantern leaving all the seeds and pulp inside for Buck. Buck found his way inside the jack o' lantern stuffing his small squirrel mouth full of pumpkin and then falling asleep inside the pumpkin.
It is surprising how well things have turned out for Buck and me since I tried to stab him when we first met. Perhaps all those leftovers made up for my near violent attempt on his life or he might be a squirrel with a spiritual side that believes in forgiveness.
As we start dinner a flash of black fur races by. I turn to see a frozen-guilty-looking-squirrel that has come out from under the refrigerator bringing additional dust bunnies as his back up army. He seems honestly surprised to find me there. His tiny nose begins moving, probably smelling the sloppy joe’s I am making, perhaps hinting that he and his troop would like to stay for dinner. I silently point him out to Dan not wanting to say anything rude in front of him because he seems so jumpy and unpredictable, like a squirrel with a very bad coke habit.
I realize the only way to get rid of him was to stab him with a nearby paring knife, which means the loss of the utensil, but am willing to make the sacrifice in order to remove this intruder from our home. While raising the knife slowly over the squirrel like a scene from a horror movie, Dan grabs the broom and opens the front and back doors. Dan, the committed pacifist, has miraculously found a way to both eject the uninvited dinner guest while sparing the squirrels life. After some chasing and running back and forth, the squirrel flies out the door and I secure the locks just to be safe.
After our first encounter with the squirrel, we began to notice him running onto the porch as we leave the house, like he’s waiting for us to get out of his place. Since he does not have a key, he can only peek inside the windows or relax under the shade of the porch. His hesitation waned and he started sprinting onto the porch to settle into his favorite position, flat on his belly stretching out his arms and legs as if he were mimicking a tiny rug someone would make from squirrel skin.
Dan named him Buck. Buck enjoys the vegetable garden behind the house, especially the tomatoes. He sits on top of the grill, speedily nibbling through the shiny-red-cherry-tomatoes. I suppose he gets a whiff of charcoal and burgers and envisions a freshly grilled burger complete with fresh tomato topping. You can see Buck has that kind of sharp imagination. Instead of using the garbage disposal, we now pass leftovers onto Buck.
For Halloween, we had several small pumpkins on the front porch perfect for Buck’s petite build. Dan carved a jack o' lantern leaving all the seeds and pulp inside for Buck. Buck found his way inside the jack o' lantern stuffing his small squirrel mouth full of pumpkin and then falling asleep inside the pumpkin.
It is surprising how well things have turned out for Buck and me since I tried to stab him when we first met. Perhaps all those leftovers made up for my near violent attempt on his life or he might be a squirrel with a spiritual side that believes in forgiveness.
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